


Finding The North

by Schmittens



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Battle, F/M, Fluff, Handfasting, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, POV Brienne of Tarth, POV Tormund Giantsbane, Sex, Smut, Swearing, at least somebody gets a happy ending, free North
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-27 22:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19798633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schmittens/pseuds/Schmittens
Summary: Jon Snow is the rightful King. He also knows nothing. He has sent his greatest allies to the North to be free while he heads to King's Landing. Sansa will not stand for her cousin's decision. He is blind to the Madness that is brewing in the Mother of Dragons, but she is not. She tasks Brienne of Tarth to go to the North and rally the Free Folk.Brienne, ever faithful, takes on the task. She finds the Free Folk, she finds Tormund Giantsbane and perhaps, she finds something she didn't even know she was missing.Diverges slightly from TV show - perhaps the way I wish things would have ended.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people!  
> This is my first time writing anything - please be kind and enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maid of Tarth no more

Tears rolled down her cheeks.  
She always had to deal with the boys and men alike treating her as though she didn’t matter, as if she was a giant of a woman that was immune to everything. Images of the boys who snickered and laughed at her when she was young, mocking her and calling her Brienne the Beauty swam in her head. Yet again she was being tricked into thinking after all she had been through, she could be a lady to a man who deserved her; who loved her. However, she’d been fooled again. 

Jaime leaving hurt her. He had managed to worm his way into her heart and tore it open, leaving it vulnerable to the sting of rejection. She had been a maiden before Jaime. She had been a lot of things before him, but she would be a lot of things after him as well. A knight. The first woman to ever bare the title and she would wear it well. But first she would grieve for her broken heart. 

Watching him ride away on his horse towards Cersei hurt like the wrath of seven hells. Brienne of Tarth was a warrior though. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and steeled her resolve. Turning to face back towards the keep of Winterfell, Brienne sewed back together the pieces of her heart. One step at a time; one more stitch into her heart to make it whole again. A history shadowed with lying men would make it a slightly easier task to bear. 

Quietly she walked back to her quarters, to the safety behind her closed door. She shed one final tear before hardening her heart. Nothing would distract her from her duties now. By first light, she would be herself again; Ser Brienne of Tarth, first Lady Knight of the seven kingdoms, Oathkeeper to the Starks and sworn sword to Lady Sansa, Lady of Winterfell.

With her head hitting the pillow of her bed, she realized for better or for worse, she was a changed woman. Gone now was her innocence that many had guessed at and few had pursued. A weak smile touched her lips, but a smile nonetheless. Her father had been wrong, she would not die a maiden afterall. Perhaps she could also finally shed her odious nickname; The Maid of Tarth.

…

Time passed and the duties she fulfilled for Lady Sansa were many and proved to provide good distraction. She realized that she had indeed been truthful to Jaime earlier; the North grew on you and she was finding it more and more appealing than when she first arrived.

The Free Folk had left some time ago. Tormund Giantsbane had taken them further North to allow them to wander and ride out the impending winter. They were weary of battle, no doubt, having fought from the time they were born up until now. Life had been a struggle for the people beyond the wall, but they had managed to fight bravely and honourably. They deserved to rest in peace after all they had done. 

Didn’t they all? 

She could only imagine a day when the fighting was done. It was all she had done from the time she was young; it was in her blood. There comes a time, though, when you grow weary of having to fight everyday. 

How many more wars would there be? The hope would be just the one. To have a rightful heir sit upon the iron throne as a just leader was something the seven kingdoms desperately needed. Too many sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, friends and even enemies lay in an endless slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has a task for her sworn sword

One morning, Lady Sansa stole to Brienne’s chambers before the sun rose. The sharp knock on the door broke the silence of the night. Brienne was awake, though, she always found herself to be up before the dawn, yet the last to fall to sleep. Her watch her sole focus, which she took very seriously. The oath that she made to Catelyn Stark in regards to her daughters, forever on her mind. She cracked the door open and Sansa rushed forth, wearing garments that Brienne, herself, felt envious of. Gone was her usual pretty gown and in its stead were black clothes, well fitted breeches and riding boots. Before Brienne could even utter a word, Sansa spoke in a hushed tone.   
“Brienne, you always swore you would protect me and do as I asked, is this still true?”  
“Of course my Lady,” Brienne said without hesitation, “you have my word.”  
Sansa smiled and nodded, that was all she needed to hear. Brienne’s word was good, she had always shown that. 

Sansa’s red hair was captured in many braids, when it usually hung loose and flowed in the wind. Brienne could tell she was gearing up for war.   
“Brienne, I need you to do something for me.”  
“Anything my Lady,” again without hesitation, the words flowed from Brienne’s lips.   
“I need you to find the Free Folk and ask who of them will come to the aid of Jon. He is the rightful heir to the iron throne and I intend to see that he gets what is owed to him.” She wanted to add that if the Targaryen girl, the Mother of Dragons, took the throne, she knew her time in the North would not be long.  
Brienne looked at Sansa, a question on her lips as to the meaning of him being the rightful heir, but that would have to wait.  
“My lady, is it wise to send your sworn sword away from you at this time? I would prefer to remain close to you.” Brienne stated.  
“Yes, it is wise Brienne. You’re the only one I can trust with this.”

Sansa sighed, she had broken her own oath to Jon once already, but Brienne needed to know if she were to fully understand what was being asked of her. Once again she found herself unburdening herself of the truth that had been so secretively bestowed upon her. Brienne took the news better than she had, but then again she didn’t grow up with Jon Snow only to learn he was truly a Targaryen. Her half brother was now her cousin, the rightful heir to the iron throne and the ruler of the seven kingdoms. 

The news was a lot to handle for Brienne, but then again nothing seemed to surprise her anymore. Everyone had secrets. The news was temporarily pushed to the back of her mind though. She had something of her own to discuss, but she did not know how to speak about it. It wasn’t proper and was therefore uncomfortable. It had been on her mind for a while, though, and she wanted to speak to Sansa about it.   
Brienne found herself awkwardly shuffling as Sansa started to exit her room.   
“Might I have a word before you go, my Lady,” Brienne asked averting her gaze.   
Sansa turned and looked questioningly at Brienne.   
“You can ask me anything Brienne.” Sansa’s kind words scarcely made Brienne’s question easier to ask.   
“Have you ever known love my Lady?”  
Sansa barely batted an eye. She did not wear her emotions on her sleeve like Brienne. She was a born leader who was able to hide her true feelings, unlike Brienne who blushed at the thought of anything improper. Even though Brienne was born and raised a lady, she was never able to master the art of conversation and found herself rather blunt in times when words could have been chosen with more care. Her father had finally resigned his pursuit to have her married off to a Lord and allowed her to become a warrior, when realization dawned that she was only a Lady in name.  
Brienne preferred to speak with actions as it was. 

“I know what it is not,” Sansa said. Brienne could have sworn that for a sliver of a moment she saw sadness in Sansa’s eyes before it was masked again. Brienne immediately regretted her question. Of course it was stupid to ask. Lady Sansa had been through some horrible things. More horrible than what Brienne herself had been through, and to her, what she had been through was hell. Sansa started to walk out the door before pausing.   
“Once, I thought I did though.” Sansa started, “It is someone who sees your worth more than you do. It grows with time and cannot be bought with gold, swords, castles, a name or a crown.” In that instant, Brienne knew Sansa was speaking of Jaime, the one who had betrayed her heart. It was more though Brienne thought, perhaps she was also speaking about Joffrey, from when Sansa was young and betrothed to the horrid boy king. Sansa was smart and she was also right. It is not something to be bought, it is to be earned. Brienne agreed, silently thanking Sansa for her true words. Brienne turned to end the conversation when Sansa continued.  
“Brienne,” Sansa started and waited for Brienne to turn and face her, “you embody it. It is a promise, a lifetime commitment to another. It is a rare and beautiful thing.” Sansa stood for a while contemplating her father and mother. The bond that they had. It had been wonderful to see such a love, but also a curse to know she may never have anything close to what they shared. And so far, she hadn’t been lucky in love. Her husband Tyrion wasn’t a monster like some of the men she had dealings with. However, it was not the earning of his love that she spoke of.

Sansa’s words sunk in deep. Brienne realized that perhaps she had never loved Jaime. She had come to love the North and a good deal other things. Jaime had always said the right words, but when it truly came down to it he had said he loved another. Then, his actions proved to her that night who he truly was; what he truly was. And what he was, was selfish and cowardly in how he had dealt with her. In that moment, Brienne realized, she could never love a man like that. He would need to be someone honourable, truthful and a warrior at heart. Someone her equal. But most importantly, someone who chose her, who put her first. 

If someone would have asked Brienne what love was, she would never have been able to describe it as it was just described to her, but it was exactly what it ought to be. The words, oddly seemed similar to something she had heard a red haired wildling describe once.   
“Thank you my Lady.”  
With a nod, Sansa left Brienne to contemplate a great many things.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne travels North to fulfill yet another promise to a Stark woman

By break of day, Brienne was on the road heading North to find the Free Folk and Tormund Giantsbane. Admittedly the wildling scared her a little. She’d never been afraid of a man before. Hells, she’d only ever been truly afraid when she had fought the bear. To die in battle would be a glorious honour, yet none had risen to the challenge, not even the bear. Still, there was something about the wildling that was unsettling. When he gazed at her, he did not hide his desire and his eyes pierced her very soul. His direct nature was something that Brienne felt disgusted with when they first met. He was everything that opposed her way of life. She embodied honour, propriety and discretion and he was wild, unpredictable and forward. 

She set a brutal pace knowing that the Free Folk would be taking a more casual approach to their travel. Thank the gods, no one had bestowed Podrick as her squire again. She would miss his company, though she would never admit it, but he would only serve to slow her down. 

Days of hard riding and still the Free Folk were difficult to find. At times Brienne would glimpse trails, but many times they were wiped away by the poor weather conditions. A week passed and she finally found the hoard. They would be a day’s ride away if their camps were any indication. The Free Folk travelled at a leisurely pace and she was able to close the distance despite the time difference between their departures. 

After making a fire that she could sleep by and not feel the biting cold, she felt a contentedness she had not felt for a while. When Brienne settled for the night, she found herself smiling as she removed her armour and nestled in for her final sleep before she would be upon the Free Folk in the morning. She expected that many would join the cause and that Lady Sansa would be proud yet again of Brienne’s ability to keep an oath. 

…

A cold crept along Brienne’s neck and she woke with a start and glanced at the blade that ever so gently kissed her skin. Her eyes travelled up the sword to the owner, shocked to see it was Tormund, the man she was looking for. A smile crept up on her lips, but died quickly at the look in his eyes. Gone was the smiling free spirited man, in its place was a deadly warrior.  
“Did your Kingkiller send you to kill me and force the Free Folk to fight?” Tormund was always straight to the point and openly honest. It was something that Brienne admired about the man. There were few secrets that he kept hidden and it was refreshing. She considered correcting him as Jaime was known as the Kingslayer, but she thought better of it.  
“No, Lady Sansa sent me to speak with you. If you’ll remove your blade ser, I will tell you the whole story.”  
“And why should I,” Tormund replied. “I do not trust you. You and the Kingkiller…” He spat at the mention of Jaime and couldn’t finish his sentence.  
Brienne looked at Tormund, her usual disdain nowhere to be found. She had wounded him greatly by choosing Jaime, and in turn had learned the hurt in being someone’s second choice.  
“We’re not…” Brienne said.  
“And why not?” Tormund replied. “Why would he say no to you, giant beauty?”  
“He chose another.” Brienne simply replied, the bitterness about her encounter with Jaime almost completely gone. She realized now that it was never truly love with him. Lust perhaps, but nothing more. She noticed that Tormund assumed she did not choose not to be with Jaime. For whatever reason, that small idea stung more than the thought of Jaime choosing Cersei over her.  
“Damned fool, he is.” Tormund became increasingly angry as thoughts spun in his mind. “You’re everything good and strong in this world! You’re not something to be discarded! You’re special.” The last words were barely above a whisper, but Brienne heard them as if he screamed them from the heavens.  
After all the lies and deceit she had endured her whole life, Brienne felt for the first time in her life, that a man was being completely truthful with her.

Tormund released his blade from Brienne’s throat, sheathed it and sat down beside her. Pulling some ale that he had hidden beneath his Wildling cloak, he opened it with his teeth and took a long chug. Passing the pouch to Brienne he gave her a knowingly sad smile.  
“Drink.”  
Brienne took the pouch and without hesitation raised it to her lips. Before she would have outright refused the drink, but she was a changed woman. The sting of the liquid down her throat felt good and warm.  
“Where is your fight woman?” Tormund asked out of nowhere.  
It was true, Brienne had noticed that there had been some small changes within herself. Usually she would have had some sparring words for him. Tormund had noticed her slight change as well. She would have never indulged before. Ale dulls the senses.  
“Oh, I don’t know,” Brienne said harshly. Sometimes, it seemed the Wildling knew her better than she knew herself. It frustrated her to no end, but also intrigued her. No one truly knew her, she realized sadly. The closest thing she had to a friend would be Podrick, but he was her squire, someone in service to her. The other would possibly be Lady Sansa, but Brienne was in service to her. Was there no one who was simply her equal, no one who could know the true person that she was?  
“Hmmm,” Tormund grunted, regarding Brienne deep in thought. “Then you’d not be the big woman I love.”  
The admission fresh off his lips, Brienne turned and stared at Tormund. His deep blue eyes shone bright with truth again. Perhaps he did love her. She studied him, his wild red hair, the small battle scars here and there on his face. The smile lines around his piercing blue eyes. Had a man ever had so much joy in his life that he had smile lines crinkled around his eyes? Certainly none that she knew. 

“You don’t even know me, how can you speak of love?” Brienne said more harshly than she intended. Tormund appeared unwounded by her accusation.  
“I know you. We are the same.”  
“We are not the same ser!”  
“Oh, we’re not?” Tormund said, feigning surprise. “You going to tell me you’re not a fighter? Going to tell me you wouldn’t cut down anyone who stood in the way of a promise you made?”  
Brienne simply stared at him.  
“And what promise have you made?” she inquired.  
“The Free Folk. My promise is to them.” Tormund left it at that, he didn’t need to elaborate, it seemed fairly simple to him. The promise was of survival. It was all he cared about. Well, he thought and glanced at the big woman, perhaps not all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm

Tormund started to speak then, of the North and the Free Folk. He regaled her with stories and legends from North of the wall. It was good to see this side of him, she thought. He truly did love the North and his people. She found she couldn’t fault him for that and her resolve started to slip away. Brienne found herself looking at Tormund and seeing more than a Wildling. She started to see a man. Behind the gruff exterior, he was simply a man honouring a promise to his people. Sure, he could be forward at times, but he had not grown up with the rules of propriety that they all had. He had different rules to abide by. 

They continued to pass the drink back and forth and Brienne found herself liking the company of Tormund more and more. He was speaking of battles now and scars that he had and for a brief second, she wondered what his body looked like and a blush crept fiercely onto her cheeks.  
“I’ve got some scars too,” Brienne said absently.  
“Oh?” Tormund replied.  
“Here,” Brienne pulled at her tunic and revealed her neck and the claw marks of the bear. Tormund reached forward and pulled his hand back, before meeting her eyes questioningly. She nodded. He reached his hand out and touched the indentations on her skin. His rough padded hands touched the soft skin and Brienne gasped at the warm feeling of his hand. She found she liked the rough feeling of his hands. They were more coarse than her own. She had always been accused of having rough hands, but his were hardened by a life beyond the wall.  
“What did this to you beauty?” he questioned, removing his hand ever so slowly.  
“A bear,” Brienne admitted. “I was captured and the men put me in a dress, gave me a wooden sword and threw me in a pit with a bear.”  
“How…” the words died on his lips. “Ah, the Kingkiller, he saved you?”  
“Yes,” Brienne found it was all she could reply with.  
“So this is why you chose him. He saved you from a bear. I would have saved you from ten bears, you know. I fought a dead one once. Scared the shit out of me, but it’s dead now and here I am.”  
Brienne could only smile. Of course he would turn it into a competition with Jaime. But honestly, there was no competition. Even through his blunt way of saying things, he always wanted to do right by her. Always spoke of protecting her and spoke for her. It was then she realized how she had come to be knighted and a questioned burned inside of her.  
“Why did you speak up for me to be a knight?”  
“You wanted to be a knight. You fight like a knight. You should be a knight.”  
“Women have never been knights though. It’s tradition,” she said.  
“Fuck tradition,” Tormund said, repeating his sentiment from that night before the battle. “You saying women have less to fight for? That they wouldn’t be good?”  
“Well no,” Brienne started.  
“My friend, Ygritte, she’s dead now, but she could fight. Could send an arrow and pierce a man’s heart from so far away they couldn’t even see her.”  
Brienne took a drink. He hadn’t spoken much of the dead before this. He didn’t sound sad, exactly. He was just speaking of what was.  
“We all fight for the same things. To fuck, to love, to live. I’d never stop a woman from fighting, especially if she was good; especially if she was you.” Tormund said the last part and looked over at Brienne. She could see the passion in his eyes. He truly was a Free Folk, she thought. No one else would see her worth and think of her as an equal. All her life men had sneered at her, but Tormund did not. Brienne grabbed the drink and finished it off, she would need courage for what she wanted to say. 

“I’ve fought a lot of things,” Brienne spoke more to herself than Tormund. “I’ve fought men, beasts, hunger, death. But how...” Brienne paused, it was certainly improper to be speaking of her feelings with someone she barely knew. However, it seemed she was no longer uncomfortable with the fire touched wildling. Somewhere, at some time in all that had happened, she realized that she might even enjoy his company. She might even like him. Might even want him. The thought crept up so suddenly that Brienne blushed furiously.  
“How do you fight a feeling?” Brienne asked tentatively. “How do you fight something you don’t understand?” Brienne asked, finally looking at Tormund.  
“You don’t.” Tormund said simply, shrugging.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut smut smut... no shame here.

Tormund hungrily licked his lips and Brienne found that she could not pull her eyes away. Before she would have turned away, but now she found that she could not. She wondered at the taste of passion that burned so brightly inside him. Perhaps it could light the torch that was but smoldering embers inside her heart. 

Tormund leaned ever so slightly forward towards Brienne, bringing their faces closer. The hunger in his eyes, something Brienne felt mirrored in her own. It was not like this with Jaime. Not at all.   
“You are my first choice woman. If I had you I’d never let you go.”   
Tormund’s admission snuck its way into Brienne’s hardened heart and melted the ice casing she had worked so hard to build. With those words he had undone all her hard work.   
“Brienne,” she wanted to hear him say her name. She realized she hadn’t heard it yet uttered from his lips and desperately wanted to hear him speak it.   
“Brienne.” Tormund spoke her name just above a whisper. “You do something to me, you know. I feel it deep in my bones that you understand what it is that I feel too.”  
Brienne inhaled a sharp breath. Just to hear her name on his lips, it was like hearing it for the first time. There was so much emotion behind it and she loved the way he almost growled her name. She didn’t understand what he was doing to her. She cupped his face with one hand and he pushed into it, closing his eyes as a sigh escaped his lips. With his eyes closed, Brienne did something she never thought she would do. She leaned forward and kissed the wildlings lips. 

A shock ran through her whole body and she pulled away from the intense feeling. Opening her eyes she looked into Tormund’s and found that his blue eyes had grown dark with a fevered lust. With wild passion he pulled Brienne into his hard body and their lips found each other's with a hunger Brienne had never felt before.   
He dragged his lips from hers for a brief moment.  
“If you don’t want this you have to stop me now. I will not be able to stop myself if I see your naked beauty.”  
Brienne looked into Tormunds eyes and knew this was something she wanted more than anything. Lady Sansa’s words popped into her head and she suddenly felt as though she truly understood them. However, so did the words she heard from childhood; Brienne the Beauty.   
“I’m not a beauty, I don’t know why you call me that. Why you’ve always called me that.” Brienne said and almost instantly regretted it when Tormund sat back and regarded her carefully. 

“Northern men,” he cleared his throat. He could see her vulnerability and didn’t want to scare her away, but he was also selfishly aching to see her naked, so that spurred on the words and bade them to come a little easier. He hoped he would be able to speak well enough for her to truly understand. “True Northern men, we want a spearwife, a woman to fight alongside in battle. You are tall, strong and could bare the cold and many children. To the Free Folk,” he cleared his throat again, “to me you are beautiful.” He wanted to add that if she would only look at the Free Folk when she saw them, she would see how they regarded her. Tormund had already had to secretly fight for the honour of stealing her. He had bested four other men who had been angry with their defeat. That was why he had been so boastful, to claim the honour before anyone else dared to try. He knew though, that stealing her hadn’t truly been an option. He had spoken to his friends, the crow and the dog and they had advised him against it. Well, in truth they had advised him against it in general, wondering what he saw in her. But he was determined. The dog had laughed at him, saying he was mad and that Brienne would cleave him in two. The idea, of such strength in a spearwife had him experiencing painful arousal. The likes of her had not been seen in the North for a long time and Tormund ached for her to be his. 

“Oh,” Brienne tried to form the word, but it barely escaped her lips. It was a lot to take in, but she could hear the sincerity. He had grown on her. His open honesty and forwardness now seemed refreshing rather than a nuisance. She knew exactly what to expect from him. He was kind, she realized. Behind the boasts and crudeness, there was a gentleness that she was experiencing now with him. He was more than he seemed. More than his appearance. Brienne realized in that moment, she had done to the Wildling, what had been done to her, her whole life. She had judged someone on their outward appearance and not given any chance to understand the person within. Perhaps, she thought to herself, she would really like to get to know the fiery man. Maybe she would find, as he had said earlier, that they were not so different after all.   
“I want you too Ser,” Brienne admitted. She had never spoken truer words than in that moment. Tormund smiled hungrily.   
“I’m no ser,” he said. “Say my name.”  
“Tormund,” Brienne said his name in a breathy whisper. A plea for him to continue.

A smile lit up his face as he brought his lips back to Brienne’s. Soon, Tormund was tearing at her clothes. Careful not to rip them completely, he removed them from her body. Brienne lay bare to him on the cloak she had laid out for her sleep. The fur of his clothes brushed against her naked skin and the soft touch made her shiver with delight. Tormund pulled back ever so slightly and gazed at her beauty. Brienne made a move to cover herself. She felt vulnerable in front of him. She wasn’t what she considered to be womanly in figure. Her shoulders were large, her breasts were on the smaller side, her hips wide and her thighs muscular. He captured her wrists and held then beside her body.   
“Perfect,” he breathed out. The word coming out just above a whisper. Her body was everything he could have dreamed of. Her shoulders were strong, her breasts were a perfect handful, her stomach was taught and muscular, her hips were good, strong birthing hips and her thighs were thick and powerful. She would make the perfect spearwife.   
Tormund raised her hands above her head, capturing them with one hand and hungrily kissed down her neck, skimming his lips over the scarred marks from her dance with a bear. Making his way to her breasts, he paused for a moment and dropped his ear to her chest, listening to the frantic beat of her heart. He released her hands, when he felt her relax in his grip. She could feel his smile against her body as he continued to kiss her making his way down her body. He kissed every scar. The magic he weaved made her forget about Jaime, made her forget about the Starks, made her forget about her oaths. She was simply a woman and finally felt as such in his hands. 

His mouth dropped over her sensitive part, and she rose with a start. Tormund’s large hand pushed her back flat.   
“What are you doing?” Brienne shockingly asked.   
“Making you wet. Making you want. Making you mine.”  
Brienne had little time to question as his mouth returned and waves of pleasure rippled through her body. All questions died on her tongue as a breathy moan escaped her lips. She immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, shocked at the sound that she had made. She noticed that Tormund was looking at her, his mouth and tongue still working furiously to provide pleasure. He raised his head slightly.   
“Give in my beauty. I will show you pleasure you have never known.”   
Without waiting for a response, his mouth returned to her most sensitive part. His red beard grazing and deliciously scratching her thighs. Brienne had a choice to make. Seemingly of their own free will, her hands found their way to his wild red hair and she dug them in, capturing his head against her body. Suddenly, a tingling spread from her belly to her spine and through to the rest of her body. Although she tried to fight it, an explosion of pleasure ripped through her. She could feel her body burning from the inside out as her skin coloured red with passionate fire. A cry tore itself from her lips and she released her grip on Tormund’s head. She had never felt that before.   
Hunger tore its way through her and she wanted Tormund to feel the same. He needed to know what he had just given her. He found his way back to her lips, she kissed him hungrily and could taste a salty sweetness on his lips. He looked deep into her eyes and finally saw the sapphire eyes alight with a fire, the eyes he had been dreaming of ever since he laid eyes on her. She was a wildling at heart he thought, the reserve she had on the surface hid her free spirit. 

Suddenly, with surprising strength she quickly flipped Tormund onto his back. He laughed with pure delight at her strength and she found herself grinning with him. Gone was the timid, reserved Brienne of old. Here was a new Brienne; Brienne in the North.   
She worked at lifting the animal skins and revealed a chiseled hard body. Scars danced across his skin, colouring silver as the firelight danced across his body. She marvelled and touched the wiry red hairs that covered his chest. He let her get her fill, allowing her to trace her fingers across his broad chest at a leisurely pace. He watched her with hooded gaze. She lowered her head and kissed some of the scars as she travelled down his body. Chancing a glance up at him, his eyes looked almost black with passion. Brienne removed his breeches from his body and his lust was evident as his impressive manhood rose to meet her mouth eagerly awaiting. Unsure, but wanting to return the pleasure she had surprisingly received, she wrapped her lips around his manhood. In the back of her mind a small seed of doubt planted itself. A lady would never do this. She brushed the thought away though, she was no lady. She was a warrior, a knight, a woman and she wanted to please this man. 

A groan escaped his lips and Brienne looked up to see Tormund’s eyes as he stared at her.   
“Ah, woman, you are full of surprises,” he said smiling. “I’m a lucky man.”  
Applying pressure with her hand, meeting her mouth, she started to work into a slow rhythm. She hoped she was doing it right. In truth, she had no idea.   
“Harder, faster” he grunted. Tormund’s harsh breaths and moans of pleasure gave her the courage to continue. His hands reached down and gripped her blond hair, as she had done with him. Rather than hold her to him, he pulled her free and dragged her up his body. A sigh escaped her lips at the loss of the warmth in her mouth. Her questioning gaze met his eyes.   
“I need you woman, now.” His confession drenched her core, wetting her thighs. 

He positioned Brienne above him, lowering her onto himself. He made sure it was achingly slow so that she could feel every inch of him as he entered her and claimed her as his own.   
“Mmmm,” Tormund growled. “You are slippery wet. So good. So warm.”   
Most women were pleased to be taken by their man, but he wanted his big woman to be in control, at least at the beginning. He wanted to look into her sapphire eyes as he spilled his seed in her. 

Brienne straddled him and her powerful body started to move, their harsh breaths coming rapidly as Brienne ground her hips against Tormund, ensuring he was seeded deep inside of her. They both groaned in pleasure at the feel of one another. Tormund’s hand dropped between them to where their bodies met and he found himself touching her sensitive area where he knew she would feel the most pleasure. Brienne’s sharp intake of breath and moan caused his heart to swell. His giant of a woman was more beautiful than he could have imagined. She looked like a powerful goddess riding him. Her skin was tinged pink and he reveled in the feel of her heat enveloping him. Nothing in this moment felt better to him. They fit perfectly together and it drove him wild.

He wanted to last long for his beauty, but she was so tight, fitting him like a glove. The next time, he promised himself, he would take his time. The next time he wouldn’t finish until she couldn’t remember her own name.   
This time, however, he was lost in the intoxicating feeling of her and he could not hold back. 

Tormund flipped her onto her back, somehow maintaining their connection. He moved like a man possessed. Brienne loved the feel of him. She felt the build of the delicious tingling she had experienced earlier and prepared herself for another earth shattering experience. She closed her eyes as the sensation was building almost too much to bear. Tormund cupped her face.   
“Look at me.”  
Brienne’s eyes flew open and she stared into Tormund’s deep blue eyes as the delicious sensation overloaded her body yet again. Her grip tightened on him and he finished with a cry of pure joy, keeping his eyes locked with hers. 

He rolled off of her, careful not to put too much of his weight on her. Tormund brought his furs over them to keep them warm as they embraced each other, their skin slick with sweat. Brienne sighed, she didn’t know that it could be like this. She scolded herself quietly at the stupidity of her initial choice. She found a fire burned inside her brighter than one she had ever possessed. He had done this for her. Brienne the Beauty; the nickname would never again have the hold it had over her, from this night on. Now, even if she was called it in jest, she would remember Tormund’s words.   
Perhaps this is what it was supposed to feel like. With Jaime it had been more of a respect, she didn’t feel this burning fire within herself. 

Tormund smiled to himself. She already possessed his heart, and now she had the rest of him as well. Perhaps his giant woman would have him forever.

Brienne promised to herself that when the sun rose, she would tell him of her mission from Lady Sansa and the true heir to the iron throne. She thought about it, if she was a weaker woman, she would run North with the wild man and leave the battle behind. He made her stronger though. She knew they would both see battle in the coming days. They were cut from the same cloth, they would fight this last war for their friends. Closing her eyes, she nestled closer to him and let a deep sleep take over.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More smut... haha

Brienne stretched and felt a delicious muscle ache all over. She wondered at the training that she had endured to work muscles that she had not already hardened from her years of training. 

A blush crept from her cheeks down to her chest when she remembered what had occurred the night before. She rolled over to find herself alone in the furs that had been so graciously tucked around her body. The fire was small embers, but the first light of the day was cresting over the world and she should be getting up anyways. Stoking the fire, she brought it back to life and warmed her hands, keeping the furs draped around her shoulders. 

She didn’t even hear him approach and was surprised to find Tormund standing beside her with only his breeches on. His bare chest was tinged pink from the biting cold and Brienne’s face burned with new fire as Tormund caught her staring. Just as she was tearing her eyes from his deliciously sculpted body, covered with the wiry red hair she so loved to touch, she noticed scratch marks. Forgetting that she was completely bare save for the fur that she held around her body, she stepped over to Tormund.   
“What happened?” she asked shocked. What made these claw marks? They weren’t very deep, but they stood out on his skin as fresh scrapes and some had small amounts of blood pebbled along the lines.  
Tormund’s deep chuckle rumbled in the quiet forest.   
“Beauty, you’ve made your mark on me and now I am yours.” Brienne jumped back.   
“No,” she cried but it died on her lips. She didn’t even remember doing that to him. She had been so caught up on the passion, that she had been completely unaware that she had done that to him.   
“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Tormund said simply. “A rough fuck is a good fuck. I liked it. It means you have good fight in you.”  
A shy smile crept over Brienne’s face. She should scold him for his language, but she felt she couldn’t. Perhaps if he said he liked it then it wasn’t bad. She closed the distance between them and placed her hands on his chest, feeling the small raised ridges of the scratch marks she had left. She looked up to see Tormund’s eyes almost black with lust. What had she done now? She followed his gaze and noticed that the fur she had been holding covered absolutely nothing as it had fallen open, allowing him to glimpse her nakedness in the light of day. Slowly, Brienne allowed her eyes to travel back to Tormund, meeting his gaze. She should have been scared, she should have been a lady and dressed herself, she should have done so many things. Instead she found herself licking her lips and dropping the fur behind her onto the cloak on the ground. 

He rushed her quickly, throwing the rabbit that he had caught for their breakfast onto the ground. Food was forgotten. He was hungry, but only for her.   
“Mine,” Tormund growled. 

He furiously kissed her lips as his hands grasped her neck and the small of her back and pulled her flush against him. Brienne cried out, her call lost in Tormund’s mouth at the icy feel of his body against her. He knew he was cold and the warmth from her body melted him. Thankfully, he thought, he had many ideas of how to warm himself up. Dragging Brienne to the ground he, enveloped them between the furs.   
“You’re so cold,” Brienne cried out as Tormund lay on top of her. “It isn’t proper to go out without clothing on, you know.” Tormund chuckled.   
“You’re one to speak beauty,” he smiled. “You were laying on my furs. I was not going to wake you just for that.”  
“Oh,” Brienne blushed. “Sorry ser,” she said lowering her eyes to the ground.  
“No you don’t!” Tormund roared and lifted her chin so he could meet her gaze. “No sers here. Say my name. I want to hear you moan it again. Especially when I have my head buried between your legs and I taste you.” At the last remark, a wolfish smile crept upon his face. Tormund dove down beneath the furs, kissing and nipping his way towards the prize he seeked. 

Brienne’s body shivered, but it wasn’t because of the cold. 

Tormund quickly made his way between her legs. Her heat was melting his slightly frozen beard and warming is face. He could barely hear Brienne’s moans as her thighs pressed tightly into his ears. As he continued to lick and taste her, he could feel her body start to quake beneath him. The mixture of cold and heat had her whimpering. Her release would be soon and he found himself beyond excited to taste her arousal. Gripping her thighs, he pulled them slightly from his head so he could hear her as she came apart.   
“Tormund,” Brienne cried out. He barely heard her with his head buried where it was, but it brought a smile to his face to hear his name. There was never a sweeter sound than hearing your name on a woman’s lips in the throws of passion. He loved it. 

With her body languid from her explosion of pleasure, Tormund brought himself up so he could kiss her. He wanted her to taste her deliciousness. Brienne found herself leaning heavily into the kiss. She could taste her salty sweetness on his lips and found she enjoyed it more and more. 

He slowly entered her and Brienne hissed out at the delicious pressure she experienced. Gods, he felt so good, she thought, filling her perfectly. He let her body stretch and grow accustomed to his intrusion. Slowly he started to move as they both moaned in pleasure at the feeling. Soon, they worked themselves into a frenzied rhythm and Brienne found herself eagerly raising her hips to meet his thrusts. The tingling sensation built in her again and at her release, she felt Tormund still so that he could ride out the waves as she gripped him, trying to milk the seed from his body.   
“One more beauty,” he promised and resumed the previous tempo.   
“I don’t think I can,” Brienne half-heartedly protested.   
“You can and you will,” Tormund half growled as he began to move again.

Unforgiving, their bodies met deliciously. Brienne thought she could only feel this passion and excitement during a fight, yet she found that she was very, very wrong. She smiled as she thought, this was a similar dance to the fights between the two of them. They were each others match in strength and conviction.   
She came apart without warning and felt herself float up to the heavens and come crashing down into her own body. The pleasure raced through her body and she felt the familiar fire as it burned her from the inside out, making her entire body sensitive. It felt more powerful this time. She couldn’t get enough, but also felt as though it was too much at the same time. Breath finally returned to her body and she gulped it in, staring into Tormund’s dark, passion filled eyes. 

At his own release Tormund felt his heart clutch and a heat rushed through his body. In a slight moment of panic he thought if this is how he died, he could not be a happier man. As he felt his heart regain its natural rhythm he remembered a saying the elders used to refer to at the free folk camps. In earnest he tried to recall the name they had placed on it.  
Brienne moaned at the temporary loss of connection when he eventually pulled out of her body. Tormund pulled Brienne in a face to face embrace as he stared at her, etching into his mind the way she looked in pure bliss. He couldn’t thank the gods enough for giving him someone so perfect, someone so tall.

“Stolen heart and scorched soul,” Tormund murmured to himself.   
“Hmm?” Brienne asked lazily, running her fingers through his untamed hair, keeping her eyes closed.  
“Something the free folk speak of,” Tormund explained. “When you find the one. They steal your heart and in return give you theirs with a fire that marks your soul. So even in the next life you recognize the other.”  
Brienne sighed. It was a beautiful story.   
“You did it, you know?” Tormund quietly spoke.   
“What?” Brienne asked as her eyes shot open.   
“I felt it. Thought it was total shit. But, with you my giant beauty,” he paused, “it’s true.”   
Brienne turned beat red and opened her mouth a few times. She had no idea how to respond. How do you respond to such a thing? She had felt it too, but there was no way she was admitting it. They didn’t even know each other that well!   
“You think too much,” Tormund whispered. “You don’t have to say it,” he said as a knowing grin spread across his face. “I couldn’t have felt it unless you gave me your heart.”  
Brienne just stared, unable to speak.   
“Keep your secrets beauty,” he chuckled. “But know, I have your heart and you have mine.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The keeping of a promise

Brienne opened her eyes to find that some time had indeed passed and it was now almost midday. The sudden realization of her selfishness was a cold slap to the face. Where was her honour?

“Tormund,” she called out in somewhat of a panic. She didn’t see him anywhere nearby so she quickly dressed herself and started to fold up the furs and blankets.   
“You called for me, my giant beauty?” Tormund playfully responded, coming out of the woods nearby. Seeing her in an utter panic, though, brought his guard up. Immediately he snarled and drew his sword, turning this way and that to find what he assumed was a threat.   
“Tormund,” Brienne said hastily. “Will you relax, there is no threat I need to tell you something and then I need your help. Did you not wonder why I came up North to seek you out?”  
“No.” Tormund said simply and shrugged.   
Gods, he was so frustrating, Brienne thought. He definitely wasn’t thinking with his brain, she realized and rolled her eyes. Facing Tormund she followed through with her oath and explained the hidden lineage of Jon Snow and the reason for her visit North. 

Brienne stared at Tormund as he didn’t even react to the news at all. She shook her head. Perhaps this was all a waste of time.   
“The crow is a King,” Tormund said quietly. “Well, fuck.”   
“He is the rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms. By blood it is his right.” Brienne stated.  
“By honour it should be his.” Tormund said simply. “The best rulers are the ones that don’t want it. They are less stupid.”   
Perhaps he was right, Brienne thought. Perhaps there was hope for the seven kingdoms afterall. Maybe a King who didn’t desire to rule would be the one to finally unite the people. He had already won the hearts of the North and the Free Folk. What was a few more?  
Brienne quickly ran through her head the rulers that had been followed out of love rather than fear. The list was almost nonexistent. Daenerys had held that, but there was a dark presence Brienne had felt and it worried her. She hoped they would not be too late to save the people from what she dreaded could happen. 

…

There were more free folk than she expected that took up the call to support the true heir. She suspected it had something to do with Tormund’s friendship and that Jon Snow had brought the free folk beyond the wall to help save them before the army of the dead had initiated them into their army. 

They travelled at a fast pace and Brienne found that she was impressed with the abilities of the free folk. She rode her horse while Tormund and the free folk walked. She found that her armour hindered her in the cold and riding suited her better. Silently the Free Folk stalked forward and more than once Brienne caught herself wondering at how such muscled individuals were able to move so quietly. She had never mastered the art, and was more than once described as a lumbering woman. 

Being with the free folk, Brienne found that she tried to distance herself from Tormund. The last thing she needed was word to spread that Brienne was no lady afterall and was freely laying with the wild man touched by fire. She didn’t have much pride, but she found that if any more unkind words were spoken about her, she wouldn’t be able to handle it very well. Perhaps she was judging them too harshly, but years of others snickering behind her back and jesting at her expense told her to be cautious. They resumed their initial dance where he would stare longingly at her and she would refuse to acknowledge him. Brienne quietly stole glances when she knew that no one else was looking, though. She couldn’t get the thought out of her head that his heart truly beat beneath her chest and that hers was with him. 

…

In the distance, they could see the smoke. Brienne closed her eyes and prayed to the many gods, the old and the new, that her charges were safe. She had no way of knowing if Lady Sansa had made it there yet or even if she had gone to King’s Landing. She knew that Arya was there as she had left with the Hound. Arya, the one woman that had ever impressed Brienne with her swordsmanship. She was a fighter. 

Tormund cursed and spoke in a rush at the Free Folk, speaking a language that Brienne could not understand. It frustrated her to no end that she was unable to communicate or understand their native tongue, while the Free Folk could speak the common tongue with apparent ease. “We’ll go faster now,” Tormund said barely passing a glance at Brienne.   
“Now or never,” Brienne replied, nodding her head at the space Tormund had been, as he rushed forth.   
Even though they were quite some distance from King’s Landing, Brienne ventured to think that they would arrive in less than two days. The Free Folk were light on their feet and they would make the journey seemingly effortless. It was in this time that Brienne began to resent her heavily plated amour. Perhaps there was something to be said about wearing leather and furs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying goodbye to a friend

They arrived and stood hidden in the shadows of the few trees that had been unclaimed by the battle. So much had been destroyed. 

They settled in for the night and Brienne found herself looking for Tormund. They had to plan a strategy for battle, if that’s what they were to do. They needed to find Jon Snow. 

Brienne found Tormund sitting against a tree keeping watch on the Free Folk, while keeping an eye on the wasteland that sat between them and the burning King’s Landing. She watched him from the shadows. She would never admit it aloud, but she missed him. Missed his look, his touch, his feel. This was war though, Brienne quietly sighed. There was no time for romance or, her heart soared at the thought; love. 

Tormund watched the space of land that lay before him. He watched as a figure road away from the mass of people towards the forest. Somehow, from a distance he recognized the figure. He was certain of who it was and he was surprised and yet not surprised that they had survived. He watched silently as they rode and turned towards where the free folk lay hiding in the trees. He did not want to spook either party, so he let the encounter happen. He sensed another presence and the hairs on the back of his neck stood. Tormund gently patted the ground beside him.   
“No point standing there by yourself, woman.” He said without turning to look at her. 

Brienne started to walk forward and noticed a bloodied horse and suddenly a body came as if it was flying through the air at her. She saw the metal gleam in the night, but it was sheathed and the attacker was rolling towards Brienne’s feet. Her heart nearly stopped, she was surprised. People rarely got the better of her, but this one definitely had. Brienne felt a nagging feeling at the back of her mind. She had seen this type of movement before. 

Brienne’s heart swelled as before her stood Arya Stark. Bloodied, she stood to her full height, which barely met Brienne’s shoulders. Before thinking she enveloped the girl into a hug. She was not the hugging sort, but by the Gods, Brienne thought, this would be the occasion for it.   
“Gods are you alright?” Brienne found herself asking.   
Arya barely nodded in response.   
A slight cough sounded in the distance. Brienne had all but forgotten about Tormund.   
“Here little death bringer,” Tormund smiled and handed her his water pouch.   
She took some tentative sips, but he could see the water soothing her and relaxing her body. Only the gods knew the terrible nature of the beast that was the destruction of this city. Whatever she had been through, he suspected she would never be able to talk about it. 

Staring at the destruction and preparing themselves for what tomorrow would bring, everyone allowed sleep to take them over. 

…

Waking before the sun was up, Brienne watched as Arya packed a few small belongings that she would need for her journey. Before she could even think, Brienne’s feet were carrying her towards one of her charges.   
“Arya, don’t go,” Brienne pleaded.   
“Valar Morghulis,” she said simply.  
“Valar Morghulis?” Brienne questioned, repeating the strange phrase. Once again, she felt annoyed that she only knew the common tongue.   
“All men must die,” Arya translated. A quiet hung between the two of them before Arya broke the silence.   
“I have done my fair share of killing. The god of death owes me a life now. A full long life and I intend to take it before I greet him as an old friend at the end of my days.”  
Brienne looked at the woman that Arya had become and nodded. For one so young, she had seen so much death and was owed a life, that was true. The Night King had stolen many deaths from Arya’s god of death and she returned them all by ending the Night King’s reign of terror. Brienne silently wished to herself that her debt had also been paid and she could leave this nightmare. However, she knew that honour bound her to be here. At least, one of the Stark girls was safe, Brienne thought. Now to think about the other. 

Arya smiled at Brienne.   
“You are released from the part of your oath that is bound to me,” Arya said. Brienne felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Somehow, in all the madness surrounding them, Arya Stark had surprised her yet again. Perhaps, Brienne thought, she was a lot smarter than anyone gave her credit for. She seemed to read others like a book.

Without any further words, Arya turned on her horse and started to leave.  
“Thank you my lady,” Brienne called after her.   
“I’m no lady,” Arya replied back, smiling to herself as she disappeared amongst the trees. Perhaps not, Brienne thought, no more than herself, and that brought a smile to her face.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A taste of the battle at King's Landing

Brienne and Tormund conferred with the Free Folk as the sun rose in the sky. They would need to find Jon or someone who would hear their plight and figure out a way to best the hoards of warriors that were somehow left over after the battle. 

Tormund stared at what had once been an empty space between them and King’s Landing. It was now filled with Dothraki and Unsullied soldiers. 

They stayed hidden for two days, trying to figure out a way into the burning city without drawing attention. The city was utterly destroyed. The smell of burning flesh drifted towards them so often, that it almost became normal to smell. Screams could be heard sometimes, as people were found in burning rubble and then executed for following the wrong Queen. Brienne thought to herself, this is what she had feared most. This was the ending she had wished to never see.

That’s when they heard it. The terrible scream from Drogon. It sounded awful and Brienne and Tormund found themselves running with the rest of the Free Folk towards the city. Something had happened and for better or worse, they were going to fight their way in to find out what had happened. Catching some warriors off guard, they started to cut their way through. It seemed, though, that the Unsullied were distracted. They did not have their leader Grey Worm and the dragon’s cry had thrown them off. Within seconds, Brienne and Tormund were bloodied and bruised. They could see a fire burning brightly at the top of a building where the roof had been burned off. Drogon rose from the building, carrying something; a body. Pale blonde hair hung between his claws. The Khaleesi. By the gods, Brienne swore to herself, the Mother of Dragons was dead. He swiftly flew away with her body. His cries could be heard in mourning even as he distanced himself from the city.

At the top of the steps, Grey Worm appeared and screamed something in Valyrian. Brienne stared at Tormund while many of the Unsullied ran forward with a terrible war cry.

They continued to fight and noticed that the Dothraki had backed away. The horsemen sat back and watched as one of the men reared up and spoke in a harsh tone. Brienne thanked the Gods that they did not also have to fight the Dothraki. She assumed with the Khaleesi dead, they needed a new Khal and he was not keen on fighting when it had nothing to do with them. At least that was what she hoped.

Brienne and Tormund continued their brutal pace and felled many Unsullied. Brienne was now, however, bleeding from a cut somewhere along her hairline and it dripped down her face. Tormund’s nose was cut and blood ran from there, smearing across his face. When there was a slight break in the battle, Brienne and Tormund looked up to see Jon Snow and Grey Worm standing at the top of the steps. Jon was pushed to his knees and Grey Worm was screaming as tears ran down his face.   
“You killed our Queen!” Grey Worm yelled. “For this you will die, traitor!” He spat at the last word and rose his blade to Jon’s neck. One of the Free Folk threw a spear and grazed Grey Worm’s armour. He turned and shouted more words in Valyrian. The Unsullied turned then and really focused their efforts on the Free Folk. Brienne heard Tormund grunt loudly and curse as a blade hit his back. She was momentarily distracted and she felt herself become completely surrounded by Unsullied bodies. Out of seemingly nowhere a Free Folk riding Brienne’s horse ran through the Unsullied ranks and broke the circle surrounding Brienne, attempting to aid her. As the Unsullied stabbed at the horse and rider, the horse reared up and lost balance as it was stabbed through with Unsullied weapons. The heavy beast, staggered and fell, landing on her before rolling off. She screamed as her metal armour caved into her body. The Unsullied left her for dead, laying on the ground with her armour cutting into her body. She was completely unable to breathe and tore at the metal that was slowly draining the life from her body. She was able to pull some of it off and finally tore the crushed chest plate from her body. Sucking in a deep breath, Brienne rose to continue her fight. She had not seen the warrior who turned to face her. 

Brienne felt a hot searing pain across her chest as his blade struck her. The last thing she heard was Tormund’s cry as her vision faded to black.   
“NO! Brienne!”

…

Tormund saw red. He never knew anger to grip him like this in battle. Seeing Brienne fall broke his heart. She had to survive. His big woman had to survive. He had just found her, just made her his, even if she had not accepted it yet. It could not end like this. He became possessed and started slicing his sword with terrifying accuracy. Grey Worm approached Tormund, seething with anger as well. They met and their swords rang out as they struck one another. The two danced and struck out and cut one another on various occasions. Grey Worm’s eyes flickered as an Unsullied attempted to cut Tormund in the back again. Using the distraction to his advantage, he pressed Grey Worm and stabbed with his sword. Grey Worm easily parried it, but Tormund drew his small dagger and thrust it towards Grey Worm’s unprotected neck. 

He held it there and captured the Unsullied leader.   
“Tell them to stop!” Tormund screamed into his ear.   
“Dhavoghedhi.” He called out and the Unsullied stopped in complete unison and held their weapons still. 

Tormund looked up to find Jon Snow slowly getting to his feet at the top of the steps. Blood ran down his head from where Grey Worm had hit him with the hilt of his sword.   
“All hail your King!” Tormund called.   
“He is not my King,” Grey Worm spat. “The Unsullied will never follow him. He is a traitor.”  
“Fine,” Tormund said. “Leave and don’t return.” At the moment Tormund couldn’t give a shit what happened. He needed to go to Brienne, needed to see his beauty. He would do whatever it took to stop the battle. Whatever it took to hold her in his arms.   
Grey Worm looked at Tormund and nodded ever so slightly. With that done, Tormund pushed him and ran for Brienne. He dropped to his knees in front of his giant beauty. His entire body felt spent looking at her, laying in a pool of her own blood.   
“Brienne,” he called out as tears started to run down his face. Her limp body felt small in his arms. It was then that he noticed a small painstaking breath ripple through her body. He lifted Brienne, with what strength he knew not.   
A cry ripped through him and Free Folk came running from all directions to assist him. He took her far from prying eyes towards the woods and accepted the herbs and medicines that the elders passed to him so that he could mend her. Mend his woman.   
It truly hit him how much he loved her. Without her he couldn’t breathe, wouldn’t breathe. 

She had to be ok. She had to.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the battle

She smelled of blood. Gods they all fucking did. Well, blood and fire anyways.   
The whole city smelled of fire. The mad Queen burnt the place to the ground. Ash floated down from the sky as the fires continue to burn, even though it had been many days since the battle ended. 

The Unsullied had left on ships and the Dothraki left to go South towards warmer lands. Not many stayed behind. 

A loud grumble roared from a seemingly dead body. A body that hadn’t moved in a long while.   
“Fuck the gods, I didn’t die. Mad cunts!”  
Tormund recognized the voice immediately and almost laughed out loud; the fucking dog lives. He didn’t like him much when he first met him, because he had made his giant beauty angry, but she did beat him in a battle and leave him to die. Can’t blame him entirely. Then, he had talked to him and found he liked the angry man. He had burns on his face, but Tormund could care less. It meant he had been in a battle against fire and came out alive. Not many could say that. He noticed, though, that many people feared him and he did his best to hide the scars from the delicate kneelers of the South. These Lords and Ladies were stupid shits, thought Tormund. The dog would be a man of worth in the true North. In his experience, the free folk women loved scars. It meant you had a story to tell. 

After the dog’s battle, it was a wonder he was alive. He had run into the mess of it searching for some brother he called Mountain. Seemed some debt was owed by way of death. Tormund moved ever so slightly to look at his friend the dog. He was covered in blood and filth and he would be angry when he saw that he had been touched by fire yet again. Only now it marred his upper body as well. He was alive though, that meant he was better off than many others. 

Tormund turned back to look at his giant beauty. She had been gravely injured in the fight, but he had made sure she didn’t die. It was selfish, but he couldn’t live without her, not after knowing the passion that burned so bright, just under her proper and reserved surface. Holding her hand, he warmed it between his large hands, praying he could help breathe more life into her for a faster recovery. 

She would be sad when she woke, he thought. There would be a large scar left on her body and he feared it would make her shy. She never thought of herself as a beauty, but what did she know? She grew up in the South where they did not appreciate what she was. Fucking shits, how could they not see her worth? Tormund cursed all the men that had ever jested about her, they were not worthy of her. But then again, the fools had left her for him; his giant beauty. And he found he couldn’t be too mad at them after all.   
The permanent reminder of the battle ran from her neck across her chest and ended near her hip. It was a beautiful battlescar that bested the new large one he sported across his back. It showed she was a fighter and he would be the only one to see it as it would be hidden beneath her clothes, far from prying eyes. 

…

Though he did not want it, Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen as he was also called, was the rightful heir of the seven kingdoms. It saddened Tormund that his friends final act to end the war had been heart wrenching. Daenerys had become mad with rage and taken it out on the innocents locked in the keep. She went too far and Jon had to stop her. She had followed in the footsteps of her father and it could not be allowed. The people could not survive another mad ruler. It broke Jon’s heart, but it had to be done.   
After being captured by Grey Worm and the small battle at the gates that had injured Brienne, Jon had immediately walked away. He sent a raven to Winterfell, calling his cousin, the three eyed raven, Bran Stark to come to King’s Landing. Surprising everyone, though, Lady Sansa arrived the next day, stating that Bran was gone. A fortnight ago, he had left and travelled North stating that Sansa was safe to travel to King’s Landing. He had disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace. Sansa secretly wondered to herself if Bran had up and walked away, but she shook her head at the silly notion. Somehow, though, she couldn’t dispel the shiver that crept along her spine. Something in regards to Bran had never sat right with her, but she could not put her finger on it. Perhaps now, she never would. 

Upon Sansa’s arrival, Jon tried to abdicate his claim on the throne. He stated that there needed to be a better way for the realms to be ruled and succession to be chosen. Jon swore he would not father any children and that the next ruler would have to be one chosen. It was then that Samwell Tarly spoke up. He proposed that a council of recognized families should come together and decide together, so that the next ruler after Jon was chosen for their conviction rather than their bloodline. Although many were upset, the members of the most prominent families agreed and stated that they would accept the duty of finding the next ruler together. 

Upon hearing this, Tormund smiled to himself. It was what he had thought all along. The one who would deserve to be King and do the best job, would be the one who did not want it in the first place. Tormund smile turned to a rumbling chuckle at Jon’s promise to sire no heirs; at least he would not think with his small cock.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Brienne recovers, she pulls away from Tormund.

Brienne slowly opened her eyes. Pain radiated through her chest. It was so painful it was hard to breathe at times. She looked at her one hand and saw Tormund holding it. A tear escaped before she could stop it. He was alive. His head was dropped against his chest and he was breathing heavily. How long had he been there? Gods, how long had she been there? She thought about not waking him. Moving her fingers ever so slightly, she attempted to get his attention. If it did not work, she would let him sleep. 

Tormund’s head shot up immediately. Concern muddied his blue eyes, but he smiled and leaned over to kiss her forehead. Brienne didn’t pull away and his heart leaped with hope. Perhaps he had indeed made his way into her heart, where he hoped he could stay forever.  
“Been waiting for you,” he quietly said just loud enough for her to hear. Looking down, Brienne gasped slightly and the large bandage that covered her chest. Thankfully, a shift covered her, but it was almost see through. Her entire face lit aflame.  
“Who?” was all she could get out before the pain in her chest silenced her tongue.  
“I did. I’d not have any other man look upon your naked beauty. I’d have to fight for you then, if they saw what you were hiding under all that armour.” Tormund teased, winking at her.  
Her face burned a deeper crimson. He should not speak so loudly about her body. It was not proper, especially when they were within earshot of so many. Especially when one of them was Sandor Clegane. That one ran his mouth and never knew when propriety dictated him to stop speaking. Especially of things that were of no concern to him.  
“How bad?” Brienne painfully breathed out.  
“You’ll live and fuck til you die of old age,” Tormund said proudly. His giant beauty was a warrior and nothing in the land could steal her from his side. Not if he had any say.  
“Tormund!” She scolded him the crimson tide of embarrassment colouring down her neck towards her chest. 

He loved hearing his name on her lips. Only but a few weeks ago she would have called him Ser and maybe give him a dirty look. Not that it bothered him to be called something out of what he supposed was respect, but when she spoke his name it did things to him. Things he very much liked. 

… 

Weeks passed and Brienne found that she was finally able to ride a horse without any jostling pain. Tormund had remained by her side for her entire recovery. He could have been with his Free Folk. Not many had survived. She knew some of his oldest and best friends were now in an endless slumber.

With too much time on her hands, Brienne found her mind wandering to places she did not like. She hated to admit it, but she had grown fond of her wild man. Whenever she would see his fiery hair she had to hide the smile that wanted to creep onto her face. Many people visited Brienne and she found that many of her friends had survived. Yet, many had not. 

One day Lady Sansa found Brienne cautiously swinging a sword to see how her wound was truly healing.  
“You’re looking back to your old self,” Sansa stated.  
“Getting there my lady. I will have to practice day and night to speed the recovery.” Brienne stated almost sadly, she missed the ease in which she could swing her blade without the tinge of pain pulling across her chest.  
“I am returning to Winterfell soon.” Sansa stated as Brienne regarded her, all but halting her sword action. The girl that she had initially met was now long gone. She was Lady of Winterfell now and was a damn strong woman, if Brienne could say so.  
“Then I will accompany you, my Lady.” Brienne said with an almost imperceptible sigh. She had known this was an eventuality, but she had hoped for some more recovery time. More time with Tormund. He would not be coming to Winterfell though, she knew this. He belonged in the wild and they each had a promise to keep. She did not regret her time spent with him, but now she would need to find a way to break off whatever it was that they had. 

Brienne dreaded the passing days and managed to dodge Tormund who seemed to be happily spending some time with the Hound. In passing, she heard Tormund telling Sandor all about the North, regailing him with various stories that had the two of them laughing. 

…

Tormund was anxious to return to the North where the remaining Free Folk were scattered to ride out the impending winter. He could not wait to be free and go beyond the wall. The stories that he had been telling the dog had made him miss his home even more. He longed to roam the wild and spend the nights keeping warm with his giant beauty. He had an idea and it scared him and excited him to no end. 

He found her on one of the balconies that overlooked the countryside. Brienne stood in her newly formed armour, unflinching powerful as always. A smile lit up Tormund’s face as he approached her. She was staring off into the lands, thinking about a great many things.  
“Woman, where is your head?” Tormund asked, and noticed that Brienne jumped slightly. He felt so proud that he was only one of few who could sneak up on her.  
“I was thinking,” Brienne confessed. “That Lady Sansa and I will return to Winterfell. She is to be Queen of the North.”  
“And what if you did not go with her?” Tormund asked. Usually he asked his questions pointedly, but there was a shyness Brienne now noticed. Where was the boastful wild man she had come to know so well? The one with the filthy mouth. It did not matter, she thought. They would be parted and that would be the end of it. It was simply what it would be. 

“I would never break my oath, Ser. If you think that you don’t know me.” Brienne stated, trying to place more distance between the two of them.  
“Fuck your oath,” Tormund cursed, sensing her intention. “What we have goes beyond your oath. I feel you in my bones. You and I are one!” He bellowed.  
Brienne stared at him in shock, she couldn’t believe he was yelling at her. She had never seen him without that jovial attitude and wicked little grin.  
“Fuck woman!” Tormund continued. His cheeks were coloured red and he had now run his hand through his fiery red hair more than twice. He looked positively unnerved.  
“You think I don’t know your mind? You think you can run away from me? From us?  
“I am not running,” Brienne said angrily.  
“I...” Tormund started to say, however the words died on his tongue as he ran his hand yet again through his unruly hair. “Come North.”  
“I am going North,” Brienne stated pointedly.  
“To the real North beauty. Past the wall.” Tormund said almost sheepishly.  
“And why would I do such a thing?” Brienne questioned him.  
“To be mine.” Tormund said simply. Brienne balked at how forward he was.  
“I’ve told you I want you by my side. You’re a fighter. You do something to me. You’re here,” he said placing his hand on his chest, “don’t say you don’t feel it too.” The last bit seemed more like a plea. 

He was right though, Brienne had been trying to distance herself from the wild man ever since she had started her recovery, even before Sansa had spoken to her. She had just made more of an effort after knowing her fate. She was trying to run.  
She had grown accustomed to his improper remarks. It hurt too much to think of saying goodbye if they got any closer. Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could stand that loss, so she distanced herself to make it easier. It scared her to death what she was feeling. She never ran from a fight before, but this was all foreign to her. She knew fighting, she knew the Starks, but she did not know how to deal with her feelings for him.  
Or maybe she did.

Without uttering a word she turned and walked away. 

Tormund stared after her and almost crumbled to the ground. If he had been any less of a man, any less strong, he would have broken down and cried right then and there. He was not too much of a man to admit that his heart felt completely shattered.  
Thinking for a little while, he suddenly grew angry. How dare she leave without uttering a word, where was her fight? He would give her a piece of his mind.  
He gave chase after his giant beauty. He would not give up so easily and if he must, he would steal her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tormund decides to steal Brienne.   
> Brienne decides something that takes the fight out of Tormund.

Brienne found Lady Sansa sitting in close confidence with King Jon Snow in the throne room.  
“Your Grace,” Brienne acknowledged Jon first, bowing her head as she did so. “My Lady, might I have a word?” she asked Sansa tentatively.   
“Of course, Brienne.” Sansa said quickly, hope gleaming in her eyes. Brienne immediately dropped to one knee and bent her head.   
“My Lady, I know this is all untoward and highly improper, but…” Briennne took a deep breath. She should have thought this through more. She was never one to rush a decision. She should have taken great care to compose the correct wording. Gods, she was so embarrassed. Heat rushed to her face as she knelt silently and awkwardly in front of Sansa. This couldn’t have gone any worse.  
“Brienne,” Sansa interrupted her inner dialogue. “I find that travelling to Winterfell, I will have only a need for one sworn sword. Sandor Clegane has made such a promise. I would like to release you from your oath. You have more than fulfilled it. You have my thanks for all that you have done.”   
Brienne gasped and raised her head. She could only stare at Sansa. Her mouth worked open and closed, however, no words would come out. At the thought of the impropriety, she snapped her jaw closed to keep from gawking. Yet again, she had underestimated a Stark woman. They were indeed more clever and adept at reading people than she had ever suspected. 

Jon smiled as he and Sansa shared a knowing look between the two of them. 

Suddenly, Brienne realized that she was free. She had never not been sworn to someone in one form or another. She was truly her own person. It should have excited her, but instead terror started to grip her. What would she do now? There was no one to direct her sword. Her next actions would be hers and hers alone.   
And what she wanted to do terrified and excited her to no end.

The double doors to the throne room slammed open, breaking the silence.  
“Woman!” Tormund yelled. “You hiding with the crow?! I’ll steal you if that’s what it takes!” He drew his sword. The act of stealing a woman was customary beyond the wall. He and Brienne would fight and if he won she would be his. If she won, she could decide, he either died or he was hers. There were no other choices. If this is what it would come to, he would gladly raise his sword to win her heart.   
Jon raised his hand and Tormund continued to stomp towards Brienne.   
“Enough!” Jon commanded. “You two should speak.” Tormund looked questioningly at his friend as Jon led Sansa out of the room, leaving him and Brienne alone in the throne room. Her back was to him. Still slightly enraged as well as confused, Tormund rounded on Brienne and stood to face her. His shoulders raised up and down as he heaved his breath from his body. He had worked himself into quite a rage hunting her down after she ran away from him on the balcony.  
“Draw your sword woman, we fight. I win, we go North.” Tormund said, still angry at her. Her head was bowed, but she responded softly.   
“What if I win?”  
“You won’t.” He said simply. She should have been mad at his arrogance, however, she couldn’t find it within her. He seemed more determined than anything and she had other things on her mind.   
Tormund sighed and bit his tongue. He wanted to say if she won she would have her choice to kill him or fuck him, but he suspected she would chastise him for his language. But the delicious thought of her laying bare in front of him was almost enough to loosen his tongue and he just barely held in a groan of desire. 

Brienne didn’t move so Tormund grabbed her chin gently and lifted it to make her eyes meet his.  
Her eyes swam with tears ready to spring forth. To see his giant beauty about to cry, Tormund dropped heavily down to his knees so they were face to face. She was a strong spearwife and woman. He had only ever seen the fierce and passionate sides of her. Seeing her distress all but took the anger, frustration and need from his body. He felt suddenly drained. Had he done this to her? Made her feel this way?  
“Ah, beauty, if you really don’t like me…” the words died on his lips and he swallowed hard. “I’ll go.” Tormund started to raise, this would be the hardest thing he thought. To walk away from his soul, his beating heart. He would never be whole again. Brienne’s hand shot out and grasped his wrist. Too shocked to do anything, he didn’t move for fear of her running away again.   
“Stay,” Brienne said quietly, almost too quietly. If Tormund had not been so close he wouldn’t have heard it at all.   
Tormund started to say something, but before the word could breach his lips, Brienne cut him off.   
“I’ve fought in wars, I’ve fought a bear, I’ve fought for my life. In all that time, my life has never truly been my own before.” Tormund silently listened to Brienne. For once, he did not know how to respond.  
“As a Lady, I was my father’s to command. As a warrior, a sword and a knight, I always fought for someone else. My actions have always been decided by honour and propriety. There was always a clear choice to follow. But now… I don’t...” Small tears ran down her face. Tormund leaned forward placing their foreheads together. Gently, he cupped her cheek with his hand and pulled his head up and kissed her forehead. Leaning back he looked her in the eyes as he rubbed the silent tears from her face. 

“Woman,” Tormund started and cleared his throat. “Brienne, in the North you belong to no one. Free Folk are just that; free. Come North with me. Be free.” Brienne nodded. “You’ve got the real North in you beauty. You…” The words died on Tormund’s tongue. He gripped her face harder.   
“Yes?!” Tormund asked utterly full of hope.  
“I came here to be released from my oath,” Brienne said quietly.   
“I was going to fight you.” Tormund whispered in utter awe of his big woman. He had been resigned to the fact that stealing would be how he was going to finally make her his.   
“You actually would have done that?” Brienne asked, shocked, although a smile played on her lips at the thought.   
“You belong in the North beauty.”  
“Yes, it’s quite grown on me,” she responded.   
Tormund simply held her and shuddered inwardly as the adrenaline and composure completely left his body. He would never tell her, but if it would have come to fighting her, there was no way he would have won. He would never be able to take away her choice and make her feel as though she was bound to him for something other than love.   
Knowing now that she chose him and would be his, fixed something in him he hadn’t realized was broken. If he had stolen her, he would have robbed himself of the knowledge that her heart truly belonged to him. 

Tormund smiled to himself with the realization that he could finally begin new with his big woman and start a life in the North.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think... 
> 
> More to come.   
> I always pictured some sort of a ceremony in which they are bound to each other.   
> Not a wedding, something more symbolic and free.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tormund wants Brienne to call him hers, but that would mean a wedding of sorts.

That night, Tormund found his giant beauty in her chambers. Her belongings had been packed and they would be able to leave in the morning. They had Jon and Sansa’s blessing to go North together. Not that it mattered, thought Tormund. If anyone would have opposed them he would have gladly cut them down to be with her. Even if it happened to be some King crow with a small cock.   
They would be travelling with Lady Sansa and seeing her to Winterfell along with the Hound, who swore that he would take up the charge of being the Lady’s sword. The thought comforted Brienne that she would not be leaving Lady Sansa without any protection. 

“Come here wife,” Tormund motioned to Brienne.   
“I am not your wife,” Brienne chastised him.   
“I’m yours. You’re mine. Same thing.” He shrugged.   
“No,” Brienne stated harshly, “You are not my husband until we are wed.” Tormund groaned at her.   
“You lay with me, you love me that is all I need.” Tormund smiled a wicked grin thinking he had won with his wildling logic.  
“That does not make us husband and wife under the old gods and new,” Brienne said stubbornly.   
He suddenly grabbed her hand and half dragged her out of the chambers.   
“Where are you taking me?” Brienne loudly asked.   
“I want you to call me yours. If that takes us being married, we’ll do it.” Tormund continued dragging her. Suddenly Brienne recognized where they were headed.   
“Ser, you will not wake the King for this,” Brienne whispered furiously at him. Her slip of the tongue a habit from years of propriety. Tormund, however, ignored the title she called him.  
“Oh, I’ll wake the dead to have you, woman. Just so happens that the King’s the one I need.”

Tormund furiously banged on Jon’s chamber door. The door ripped open and Jon stood looking extremely concerned.   
“What is it Tormund? What’s going on?” Jon asked, readying his sword for a battle.   
“She won’t have me til we’re married!” Tormund exclaimed loudly. Brienne wanted to correct him, as he had misspoke. He had her in everything but name, but no one else needed to know that. No one needed to know they had lain together in the wild and of all the things they had done together.   
Jon burst out laughing and a deep crimson blush coloured Brienne’s cheeks.   
“Well let’s fix that shall we,” Jon said, still chuckling.  
Jon eagerly agreed to assist his friend, although there was no saying no to Tormund. Jon sent a serving girl to quietly bring Sansa to stand with Brienne. While they were waiting, Tormund’s impatience got the better of him.   
“Crow, don’t make this long. I’ll not wait any longer for her.”  
Brienne blushed as Jon nodded. He would try to ensure the ceremony was quick so his friend would finally know true happiness. A happiness, he sadly thought for a brief instant, that he would never again know. Tormund breathed out a sigh of relief and Jon chuckled at his best friend, as he was truly an impatient man.

Sansa arrived with an unexpected guest a few minutes later.  
To make it real, to make it right, Jon and Sansa agreed that they should have them handfasted like the days of old. The binding would be eternal.   
The woman that had accompanied Sansa was Priestess of the Old Gods. The woman had happily agreed to the handfasting ceremony.   
“Ah, I see you follow the old way.” Her scratchy voice echoed in the chamber as she stared at Tormund. “And you my Lady, it is no matter to me, however, I see you have no preference. The old gods smile down on you nonetheless.” Brienne could only stare at the woman who appeared to stare deep into her soul. 

Tormund pointedly looked at Jon until he became uncomfortable. Jon implored the Priestess that it be a shortened version as he had made a promise to Tormund. Sansa smiled at Brienne, she was so happy to see her trusted friend finally finding the peace and joy that had been so elusive all her life. Perhaps, she thought, this would give her the courage to seek her own as well. She would have to speak to Brienne on the way to Winterfell. Tonight, however, was all about the two in front of her and she couldn’t have been happier. 

The Priestess stepped toward Brienne and Tormund.   
“Brienne Tarth, Tormund Giantsbane, hold hands.” Her scratchy voice sounded nothing like moments ago. Before her voice was weak and timid. Now, it sounded as though she was channeling an ancient power.   
Tormund stared wondrously at Brienne as she offered her right hand to him. Tormund grasped her wrist as she took hold of his. Their wrists touched one another and their pulses met. Brienne gasped slightly. Their hearts were beating in the same tempo to one another. She could feel his heart beat as though it was her own. Tormund hastily offered his left hand overtop of their joined right hands and she took it in similar fashion to their clasped other hands. It was overwhelming to feel how connected they were. It was as though the blood left his body at one joining of their wrists and returned from the other. As though they were becoming one. Suddenly, he realised he didn’t care how long it took to call her his. To feel this close to her was more than words could describe.

The Priestess stepped forward and pulled out a knife.   
Tormund tensed. What the fuck!?   
He was quickly shattered out of his dream like state although he was riveted in place. She leaned over to Tormund and he realized that he was holding his breath. She cut at his furs and the leather belt that wrapped his furs tightly around his waist fell loose. She unravelled the thick braided belt from his body and collected it in her arms. His breath left him in a quiet rush. Luckily, it wasn’t the only way his furs were secured or she would have seen his chiseled body and wiry red hairs that covered it. Not that he minded, but he thought that his big woman might. 

The Priestess then stepped towards Brienne and he noticed that Brienne was wearing nothing that could be cut delicately. Brienne straightened her spine as the older woman untucked her tunic from her breeches and cut along the bottom of it, running more than a full circle around Brienne, ensuring the length was similar to the braided belt she had collected from Tormund.   
“These pieces of cloth will symbolize your binding. Each one collected from you, it is a symbol of all that you come from, all that you are, and all that you will be.”  
She then turned and faced the Jon, holding out her hand expectantly. Jon stepped forward and offered a piece of cloth from his own clothes. He had secretly cut it while the woman was busy with Tormund and Brienne. He would never say out loud, but the little old woman scared him a little. Sansa looked at Jon and smiled as though she knew more than she let on.   
The Priestess stared at Jon and again he felt uncomfortable. She looked down at the cloth in her hands and back at Jon expectantly.  
“I, Jon Snow, King Aegon Targaryen, rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, offer this piece of myself as a blessing to this binding union.”  
The Priestess nodded and added it to her strips of cloth. Jon let out an audible sigh. Gods, this woman was a little terrifying. He could feel the power emanating from her. 

She stared at the cloths and moved them around in her hands. Then, closing her eyes and dropping her head back as if to look up to the Heavens, she stayed completely still. It was as though she was calling for some form of grace to speak through her and complete the union. No one moved or spoke while she stood there. It was only a few moments, but it felt like an eternity, frozen in time while waiting for an unknown blessing from the Old Gods. Suddenly, the Priestess opened her eyes and as if in a trance walked and stood in front of the clasped hands. 

First she laid Brienne’s white piece of fabric over top their clasped hands.   
“White for purity of soul, and the promise of new beginnings with this union.”   
Then she added Tormund’s braided grey leather belt.   
“Grey for respect, and the promise that you will serve each other faithfully.”   
Finally, Jon’s red piece of cloth was added.   
“Red for love, not only the love in which you inspire within each other, but the love and commitment which you inspire in those around you. Let this serve as a promise of passion that will warm your souls on the coldest of nights in the North.”

The Priestess started to move the cloths around delicately and intricately tying them together as she spoke.   
“As this knot is tied, so are your lives now bound.  
Two entwined in love, bound by the trials in which you have overcome.   
All of which bring strength to this union.   
Hold tight to one another through both good times and bad.   
For as always, you hold in your own hands the making or breaking of this union.”

With that said, the Priestess seemingly came out of her trance, she grasped the ends of the three cloths and pulled so that the knot started to tighten. She handed the ends to both Brienne and Tormund and they reluctantly let go of each other to pull the cloths into a knot. 

The Priestess gently placed her hand on the tightened knot between the two of them.   
“This knot symbolizes your bond and will keep you bound together in this life unto the next.”

Tormund looked over to Brienne and noticed tears falling on her face. As he looked into her eyes, he saw the passionate fire and love he had dreamed of seeing for so long. Finally the big woman was his. Finally!

Brienne stared at Tormund. The ceremony had been more emotional than she had thought. Gods, she loved him. Was there any other man for her? No, she admitted. She almost chuckled to herself when she remembered meeting him for the first time. She would have a lifetime of making up to him all the times that she had turned him away. All her focus suddenly snapped back to the present as she noticed Tormund gearing up to move towards her. She wanted, no needed to be with him now. Needed to feel him and feel their connection. 

He rushed forward, careful to gather the knot in his hands as he crushed his lips to Brienne’s. She stifled a moaning noise that was definitely not lady like and turned red as she remembered the Priestess who stood so close. Tormund broke their kiss and quickly turned to Jon, Sansa and the Priestess. He offered a slight nod of his head to all three. The Priestess offered a kind smile.   
Without uttering a word he started to drag Brienne out the door of Jon’s chambers.   
“Thank you your Grace, my Lady, Priestess,” Brienne called out as Tormund pulled her away. He had to fight to get her to leave, Brienne was embarrassed to say the least. She felt her face burning up the more Tormund dragged her from Jon, Sansa and the Priestess’ presence. It wasn’t proper.  
Jon and Sansa laughed and she called out to Brienne.   
“I will speak with you tomorrow, when we ride for Winterfell! Go be with your husband.”  
Propriety had dictated her life for so long, perhaps she could indulge in some unladylike behaviour just this once. She stopped resisting and ran with Tormund back to their chambers. The knot now securely in her hands, she held onto it for dear life.

The Priestess smiled to herself. She had seen the free man before, around the keep as he tended to those who had little or nothing. For a Wildling supposedly bent to the wiles of rape and pillaging, he and his people were nothing what anyone imagined. He always had a smile on his face, but nothing compared to the smile when he saw the blond woman who towered over everything. Similarly, the towering woman typically wore a scowl, however, she suspected it was due to years of training herself to be a warrior and that she had little to ever smile about. However, when the free man who was kissed by fire was in her sights, a smile that touched her eyes and buried deep in her soul could be seen with the keenest of eyes.   
Yes, it was good that she had been able to be a part of their binding. The Old Gods had smiled upon her request and spoke through her to ensure the two of them had found each other and could keep each other through this life and the next. So much sorrow had happened in recent memory, it was good to be a part of something that could brighten the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I didn't butcher the hand fasting ceremony.   
> Let me know your thoughts!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More smut... hehehe

They got back to their chambers and Tormund pushed Brienne up against the door. The cold wooden door at her back was in stark comparison to the hot blooded man in front of her.   
“Mine,” Tormund growled as he kissed Brienne in furious passion.   
“Yours,” Brienne responded breathily between kisses.  
They lost track of time and someone cleared their throat. Tormund reached around Brienne, opening the door and steadying her at the same time. Not allowing her time to be embarrassed at the witness walking by them, he quickly pushed her into the room and slammed the door behind them. Leaning against the door, panting for breath, he stared at his woman. Her eyes glistened with passionate desire, her lips were red and swollen from his kisses and her blond hair had been thoroughly run through with his hands. To him, she’d never looked better.  
“I’ve never wanted you more.”   
“Husband,” Brienne replied. A word never sounded so sweet to him. The Free Folk didn’t really believe in such claiming, but he could see the appeal in having his woman as his through to the next life. She carefully placed the knot symbolizing their union onto the bed.   
They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity as their breathing returned to normal. Husband and wife. Blessed by the King in an old traditional union, one that suited them; one that had felt right. Then, with little thought to much else, they rushed each other and met in front of the hearth. Thankfully she had lit a fire before he had whisked her away to be wed.   
They tore at each others clothes. Brienne couldn’t remove his fast enough. She ached to feel his skin against hers. 

With her chest bare Tormund suddenly stopped and placed his hand on her scar. Brienne shied away and turned her head away from him. Tormund gently grabbed her chin and brought her face to meet his.   
“Beauty, do not look away. You are all I desire.” He suddenly smiled, “Trust me.” Tormund clasped her hand and brought it to his throbbing manhood. She gasped and blushed, pulling her hand away as if it were on fire. However, there was no denying his attraction to her.   
He leaned forward and trailed kisses along her scar, starting at her neck. He deviated to kiss, lick and nip at her breasts. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips. Kneeling and reaching the bottom of the scar. Tormund removed her breeches, baring her naked flesh to him. Had a man ever wanted a woman more than right now? He didn’t think so. 

Brienne knelt and kissed his lips, running her fingers through his unruly, red hair. He shoved his tongue in her mouth and Brienne gasped at the sudden intrusion. He kept forgetting that she was an inexperienced lover. Oh, the gasps and little noises he could pull from her, he thought. It would be the most delicious exploration.   
Brienne’s tongue battled his back and when they took a small breath from their battle, he nipped at her bottom lip. The sensation made her groan with pleasure. Her passion made him wild and hungry to devour every inch of her. He pushed her on her back, laying her flat in front of him.  
“I have a mind to taste you again wife,” Tormund said. Brienne sighed at hearing him call her his wife. In all her years, she had never thought it was something she would be privileged enough to hear from a man. She had all but been resigned to be the Maid of Tarth forever. Now, she would never hold that title again and a smile played on her lips.

Tormund let his eyes roam freely and marvel at his woman. She was finally and truly his. The thought brought a smile to his face. He dropped his head down, bringing one of her legs over his shoulder.   
“Call my name, I want to hear it on your lips while I taste you.” He ducked his head and feasted on her sensitive parts. Brienne’s breathy moan spurred him on and he licked and sucked as she brought her other leg above his shoulder. Brienne finally let go of her insecurities and her hips started to move, grinding into his face. Her hands gripped his hair tightly, almost painfully and he loved every second of it.   
“Tormund,” Brienne cried out in ecstasy. The now familiar tingling sensation rushed through her body and she felt herself spasm around his mouth, tightening her thighs, feeling the scratch of his beard in all the right places.   
When she finally released him, he crawled up her body. His fur breeches brushed against her sensitive area, making her shiver with delight. He quickly shed the rest of his clothing so there was nothing between them and kissed her lips. Brienne could taste herself on his tongue. He leaned away and easily flipped her onto her stomach. Brienne instantly tensed, but a simple touch from Tormund, as he ran a hand down her back, soothed her. 

“On your hands and knees woman.” He commanded. She did as told quickly. He ran a hand between her legs and she moaned as two fingers entered her. She was slick and wet for him. He groaned at the knowledge that she was this way for him and only him. Always wanting.   
“Please husband, I need you,” Brienne begged. That was all he needed to hear, pushing on the small of her back with his hands, he entered her smoothly. Sheathing himself fully. Brienne’s sharp intake of breath and moan was almost his undoing. 

Their love making started out furiously, as if they could not get enough of one another. Soon it transitioned into a steady rhythm with the sole focus each others pleasure. Tormund smirked to himself as he smacked his hand on Brienne’s ass and rubbed the redness and stinging sensation away.   
“My Gods!” Brienne cried out. “What… what…”  
“Give in beauty.” He whispered to her. At the words, Brienne remembered his promise of pleasures. Before she could say any more, he did it again, bringing his hand down on the same spot, before he rubbed it again to soothe her.   
This time a pleasurable moan escaped her lips. The new sensation was on the verge of pain, but when she didn’t fight it, she found she enjoyed it. Enjoyed it a lot. Her cheeks lit aflame at the thought of liking the sort of punishment.   
They kept up the delicious pace they had set, then Brienne sat up, pushing her back against his chest. She loved the feeling of his wiry red chest hair. It scratched her back deliciously as they moved in unison. She couldn’t get enough of him. She felt as though her body was floating in the heavens. He drove her to pleasures she never knew. Reaching around her body, Tormund’s one hand went to her breast and the other travelled to her already sensitive area. A few small touches and she was ready to explode. He drove inside her filling her completely. She had never felt such a fullness and it was exquisite.   
“Tormund,” she said, barely a whisper. It gave him a moment’s notice before she exploded with pleasure, spasms ripped through her body and she tightened her grip on him.  
“Brienne,” he called out only seconds after her as he drew is release. 

They dropped to the floor facing the fire. Tormund grabbed some furs and brought them up over their bodies. The fire was warm, but the furs felt good against their skin. 

He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. Brienne nestled in closer, she couldn’t get enough of the man. Somehow, he made her feel small and feminine and she loved it. In fact, she loved a lot of things about him. She thought for a while and couldn’t remember a time in which she had been happier than she was in this moment. She could only hope for a lifetime more of these moments. She feared she would never grow tired of them and would crave them until she drew her last breath. 

“I love you husband,” Brienne said quietly.   
“Love you wife,” Tormund said back to her as they drifted off to sleep in front of the fire. 

The next day they would be riding North. They would be riding home.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne gets a gift

Brienne found herself up before the dawn. Her body was the warmest it had ever been. It was most likely due to the fiery wild man that was hugging her body. She sighed contentedly, they would be heading North towards her future home. She never really knew what it was like to have a home. Sure, she had Tarth, but she had never truly been accepted as herself when she was there. Propriety demanded that she be a lady, and even though she had her father’s blessing to be her true self, she had never felt as though she had belonged.  
Tormund had showed her unconditional love. Sure, he was a little gruff and forward, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Her home was with him.

A wicked thought crossed her mind and she blushed furiously. Tormund always spoke of tasting her, perhaps it was her chance now to have more than just the little taste she had previously had before. Wriggling free of her husband, she hesitantly waited to see if he would wake with her movements. Tormund continued to sleep soundly as soft breaths escaped his lips. Suddenly, acting more bravely than she felt, Brienne lifted the furs. 

Brienne stared at Tormund for a while, taking in his impressive presence. Although small scars littered his body, he was perfect to her. He was perfect for her. He was muscled and strong, from a hard lived life beyond the wall. She ached for him with every fibre of her being. A realization hit her hard as she marvelled at him; he was her soul’s counterpart; her other half. Perhaps his heart truly beat within her chest and her heart in his. 

“You just going to stare all morning?” Tormund inquired as he lazily stared up at her.  
Brienne blushed furiously.  
“I had intended something else, but I was distracted.”  
“Oh?” Tormund wiggled his brows at her as he hardened under her stare. Before he could even ask about her intent, Brienne did something that even surprised her.  
Without warning she bent her head and placed her lips around Tormund’s manhood. Her mouth and hand worked furiously as one to bring him pleasure.  
Tormund moaned and stared down at Brienne. What had he done in his life to deserve his big woman? It amazed him that she was bold, yet still shy at times.  
He sucked in a breath as she lightly grazed her teeth against him and lifted her eyes to meet his. She was a wicked one, and god, he loved her for it.  
Brienne continued, growing more sure of herself with every passing moment. Suddenly, a surge of pleasure enveloped him and he moaned a warning seconds before his release. She swallowed his passionate release, licking her lips as she raised herself back to a kneeling position.  
It took a while for him to catch his breath as he continued to stare at his woman. Sitting up, he kissed Brienne and tasted himself on her lips. He leaned back and stared into her eyes. Oh what it would be like to wake up to his beauty every morning. He could only imagine the pleasurable possibilities.  
Brienne revelled in the euphoria by simply staring at her husband. She doubted she would ever get tired of staring at him and his wild red hair. 

Before Tormund could even think of returning the pleasurable favour, a knock sounded at the door. Tormund shot up and stalked towards the door to see who it was. Before he could get there a gruff voice called out.  
“Alright you fuckin’ ginger cunt, let’s get a move on. We’re wasting daylight.”  
Without a thought, Tormund wrenched the door open.  
“Dog! You’re ready to go?” Tormund was excited he would be travelling with his friend.  
“Fuck,” Sandor exclaimed at Tormund’s nudity. He wondered if Brienne had been split in two by the fucking monster between his legs. “Put your fucking cock away and get ready. We leave soon.” He caught a glimpse of Brienne who had hastily covered herself with furs to protect her modesty. Seeing Sandor, she stifled an angry roar and cursed the two of them.  
“Finally tamed the beast eh?” Sandor chuckled. He walked away shaking his head. “Brienne of fucking Tarth” he mumbled just barely loud enough for Tormund to hear him.  
“Told you she’d be mine!” Tormund called after him.  
“Fucking good for you,” Sandor mumbled again as he waved Tormund off and headed away to prepare the horses. 

…

With Sandor gone Tormund closed the door with a smile on his face.  
“Tormund!” Brienne scolded him. “It wasn’t proper to open the door. I was exposed. You were exposed. Gods, have you no shame?” she huffed.  
“No,” Tormund said simply and shrugged. “It was just the dog. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of. Unless you don’t agree?” He smiled wickedly and raised his brow at her. Brienne blushed and felt the heat rising in her cheeks.  
“No,” she whispered.  
Tormund laughed and launched himself at Brienne. She yelped and hid further under the furs she wrapped herself in to protect herself. Tormund wrapped his warm body around hers, smothering her with his heat. 

“I should be mad at you.” Brienne said.  
“Oh?” Tormund growled playfully and started to pull the furs from her.  
“We’re late as it is!” Brienne halfheartedly protested. She found she would have a hard time saying no to her husband ever again.  
Tormund paused and regarded Brienne for a few seconds and got up and walked away to the back of the room. Brienne stared after him as he started rummaging through a small chest she had never noticed before. 

Tormund grew suddenly nervous. He hoped that it was perfect and that she would be happy. He came back to Brienne and knelt before her with a fur wrapped package. He slowly started to undo the braided leather that tied it together. He hoped that she wouldn’t see that his hands shook ever so slightly.  
“What is it?” Brienne asked staring at the soft fur.  
“One of the Elders helped me make this for you while we waited here, at King’s Landing. Before the battle.” He pulled the furs out and started laying them on the ground. Brienne found that the gift was not wrapped in furs, it was actually clothing. The cloak had a hood and there were breeches and boots for her to wear.  
“Oh, Tormund,” Brienne sighed as she tentatively reached out and touched the soft furs. “They’re beautiful.”

“Here beauty, let me help you.” Tormund lifted the furs and helped Brienne dress in them. The soft furs pressed against her skin and she found she loved the feel of it. As he tied the garments to her body, he would take every chance to wrap his arms around her, lean his body against hers and pepper kisses on exposed skin. She had never thought the act of getting dressed could be sensual, but Tormund proved her wrong. 

“Now you truly look like you belong in the North. Beauty, you look better than I could have dreamed.” Tormund grasped Brienne tenderly and brought his lips to hers. He surprised her with a passionate kiss before he released her.  
“Will you wear them?” Tormund asked tentatively.  
“Oh, yes I love them!” Brienne smiled and then understood why he seemed so nervous. She would have to leave her armour here. Oh, she thought sadly, she loved her armour. Brienne had lived in armour for most of her life, this would be a big change to make. It was an easy choice though, seeing how Tormund looked at her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road

Brienne approached her horse which had been saddled and prepared by Sandor. She tossed her saddle bag that held her few belongings over her horse and secured it tightly. She wore her new set of furs proudly along with her sword Oathkeeper. It made her slightly sad to leave her armour behind, but she knew where she was going, it would hinder more than help her. Jon promised that in time, he would send it up to her, and she could decide what she wanted to do with it. 

Just then Sandor walked around her horse and came face to face with Brienne.   
“Morning,” Brienne said as a blush rose furiously on her cheeks and raced down her chest.   
“Brienne of fucking Tarth, what no seven blessings for me?” He mocked. “Nice to see you with clothes on.” Sandor smirked at his remark while Brienne’s blush turned her crimson red.   
Tormund surprised the two of them, coming seemingly out of nowhere and clapping Sandor’s back roughly.   
“Ah if it isn’t the dog!” Tormund exclaimed. “You staring at my woman?”  
“No. Fuck off,” Sandor said, but it held little malicious intent. He found he liked the Wildling far more than he liked most others. Brienne of fucking Tarth, that one he was still warming up to.

Lady Sansa joined them only moments later. Sandor graciously stepped up to her and helped her onto her horse. She smiled kindly at him and before he could embarrass himself with a shit eating grin, he turned his head away and stalked towards his horse. He mounted the horse with ease and grace that a man his size should not possess. Without another word, they were all off. He wanted to waste no time getting on the road. 

...

Brienne rode next to Sansa, usually on a long journey, she would be scowling, constantly focused and on high alert, thinking only of where to next and of what possible dangers could be lurking behind any tree. Somehow, she felt utterly safe though. She knew, no matter what, they would come to no harm. It also helped that she now had other things to occupy her thoughts if ever she grew bored of the scenery. 

“Brienne,” Sansa spoke quietly.   
“Yes, my Lady?” Brienne replied.  
“You seem different; happy,” she commented.   
“Yes my Lady.” Brienne thought for a good while as Sansa remained silent. Yes, she was definitely happy, but it was more than that, so much more.   
“Is it worth it?” Sansa asked barely above a whisper.   
“Is what worth it, my Lady?” Brienne replied.   
“As women, we give so much. Our names, bodies, titles, lands, they no longer belong to us. I just wondered if it was truly worth it?” Brienne turned slightly catching a glimpse of Tormund as he rode in silence beside Sandor Clegane, just out of ear shot from them. Noticing her peeking at him, a smile spread across his face as he unashamedly licked his lips and winked at her. Brienne found that she could still blush at his forward improprieties, even though they were now wed.   
“Yes my Lady, nothing could be worth more.” Brienne sighed. “There are many men that do not deserve Ladies or Knights or Queens of the North.” Brienne said pointedly and glanced back at Tormund again as he now spoke with Sandor. “The right one would never take anything you weren’t willing to give, though, my Lady. That’s how you’ll know. ”

Brienne and Sansa rode in silence for a small time. Brienne had never spoken so much in her life about herself, about love, but she felt if she could somehow aid Sansa in finding her happiness, then perhaps she would finally, in her mind, have fulfilled the oath to Catelyn Stark.  
“I don’t think I knew until I was ready to trust him, although I suspect I could have been happier a long time ago had I not been so stubborn.” Brienne almost laughed to herself. Stubborn was definitely a word that had been used to describe her. Sansa smiled at her.  
“He pursued you relentlessly. I was surprised it took you so long to say yes.” Sansa almost laughed at the memories flooding her eyes.   
“Oh at the beginning I wanted nothing to do with him.” Brienne smiled.   
“Oh I remember.” Sansa said and stifled a laugh as she thought of the two of them at Castle Black. She had never felt so relaxed and free as she did now riding with her friend. Brienne knew how to make her at ease. Perhaps she felt a kinship with her and the trials and tribulations they had both been through. Their strength defined them and perhaps it was that, that brought them closer.   
“It was unbearably awkward my Lady.” Brienne said as she barely contained her laughter.  
“I know,” Sansa said shaking with laughter. It was wonderful to see Brienne jesting. The entire time she had known her, she had been so strict and rigid. It was good to see Brienne break free from being so serious all the time. She suspected Tormund was to thank for the change in her friends demeanor. If only she could find the one that could help wipe away some of the darkness etched on her soul as well.

They continued their conversation, speaking of this and that. Sansa regaled Brienne with stories of growing up at Winterfell after Brienne described Tarth in as much detail as possible.  
Brienne laughed aloud, trying to imagine the time when little Arya Stark chased a small Sansa around the keep for playing nasty pranks on her. Who could blame the girl for chasing down her older sister for placing so much manure in her bed that it stunk up the whole room?  
“Gods,” Brienne laughingly jested, “you must have had so much fun!”  
“I did!” Sansa exclaimed and laughed equally as hard.   
Brienne couldn’t remember the last time she just had fun laughing with a friend, or if it had ever happened at all.

...

Sandor regarded Brienne as she rode with Sansa. Her permanent scowl had all but disappeared and he noticed a lightness before that he had not seen. Hell she was even laughing with Sansa. What fucking power did the ginger cunt have that could transform that angry bitch into what he saw before him? He turned briefly and stared at Sansa, her long hair was left flowing and every once in awhile when the wind lifted it from her neck, he caught a whiff of her intoxicating scent. His little bird was not so little anymore.   
“Thought you hated gingers?” Tormund said breaking Sandor’s concentration on Sansa.   
“I do, you ginger cunt,” Sandor retorted.  
“Speaking of…” Tormund raised his eyebrows at Sandor and glanced in Sansa’s direction.   
“Are you fucking mad?” Sandor whispered furiously to Tormund.   
“No,” Tormund retorted and a laughed rumbled up through his chest at Sandor’s reaction. “You look at her like I look at the big woman.” Tormund said quietly. He didn’t care if the women heard him, but he thought the dog would snap his neck if the fire kissed woman heard him say anything to the effect of the dog liking her.   
Sandor tried to snap back at his friend, but he found he just couldn’t. Although his mouth worked overtime to try and push out something to the contrary of what Tormund had said, it failed him. In the end, he snapped his mouth closed and sighed heavily through his nose.   
“She is too delicate a flower, no? You are not as soft as all the other kneelers.” Tormund asked. His intention was not to be rude and Sandor knew that so he did not take any offence to the meaning.   
“No,” Sandor replied thoughtfully as he watched Sansa riding ahead. “She was a little bird trapped in a cage, poked and prodded and when they tried to clip her wings, she bit back and broke free.”  
“Ah, I see.” Tormund said. In truth, Sandor knew that he couldn’t fully understand, no one could. No one but her knew the terrors she had endured to become the woman she was now.   
“Doesn’t matter,” Sandor said quietly. “She’ll never be mine. Not like that anyways. I’ll protect her though, til my dying breath.”  
Just then, Sansa turned her head slightly and peeked at Sandor. Her eyes immediately found his and under the scrutiny of her gaze he found a stupid smile plastered on his marred face. What was her fucking power over him? He didn’t know or care. He resigned himself to the fact that he was her protector now and that was all he’d ever be. He dropped his eyes breaking the connection between them as Sansa returned her gaze back to Brienne.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise visitor in the woods

Days and nights blended together on the road back to Winterfell. Brienne pleaded with Tormund that they abstain from sex in the presence of Lady Sansa, Queen of the North, but Tormund had ther ideas. 

On the seventh night, Tormund became determined not to be denied by his new bride. Lady Sansa lay sleeping in the one tent the four riders had brought. Brienne had taken first watch, Tormund second and it was now Sandor’s turn. When he relieved Tormund, Tormund let out an audible, determined sigh as if he was steeling his nerves.  
“Dog, I’m taking my big woman down to the stream. You’re on your own.” Tormund whispered as he headed in the direction that Brienne slept soundly, wrapped up in her furs.  
Sandor chuckled to himself. The Wildling would either have his cock buried in Brienne or she’d tell him off so badly his cock would crawl back inside his body for protection. At the thought of a cockless ginger Wildling, Sandor houghed out a small laugh. 

Tormund crept over to Brienne. No sooner had he got within ten feet, he was stopped in his tracks.  
“And just what do you think you’re doing?” Brienne asked him.  
“Woman,” Tormund growled. “You know what I want to be doing.” he smiled at her. “Come in the river with me.”  
“I told you, we would not be doing that.” Brienne responded. Secretly, she craved the touch of her husband as much as he craved her, if not more. However, they were travelling with the Queen of the North and that smart mouthed Sandor Clegane.  
“I’ll be quiet,” Tormund promised.  
It was not him she was worried about, but there was no way she was admitting that. Instead a blush crept along her face.  
“You know, the water can hide all sorts of noises,” Tormund whispered and raised his brow.  
Oh, Gods forgive me, Brienne thought and stood up to join Tormund. At night, at least they could be discreet with Lady Sansa asleep and the river providing at least some sort of a sound barrier for them. Plus, the thought of wiping away the grime of the last few days seemed heavenly. Tormund raced Brienne to the water, stripping to nothing and launching himself into the waist high water. Brienne was only steps behind and ran in, embracing him. Their warm bodies met deliciously and they held each other close as the water rushed around them. Tormund stared into Brienne’s eyes as he slowly dipped her body down. He let the cascading water run over her head, wetting her blonde hair.  
She looked like a water goddess, he thought. His spearwife was made precisely for him. Gods, he wanted her, needed her. How could one man be so lucky? 

Brienne’s ears were submerged, so she did not hear the abnormal rustling of the leaves. Tormund’s body tensed and he whipped Brienne up, close against him. Cold rivulets of water ran down from her hair and dripped onto his warm body. He motioned to Brienne to stay quiet. Before she could say anything, Brienne snapped her jaw closed. She knew that look. She understood his body language.  
Finally noting where the sound was coming from Tormund stalked up the embankment and through some bushes. A strangled cry called out and Brienne recognized it immediately.  
“No!” She called out to Tormund.  
Briennne raced up towards the commotion and muffled grunts. Running into a small clearing, she looked down and saw Tormund, with his hands wrapped around the intruder’s neck.  
“Stop!” Brienne called out and placed a hand on Tormund’s shoulder. Immediately feeling her presence, Tormund lessened his grip on the boy’s neck.  
“Pod!” Brienne called. “You should know better than to sneak up like that. Especially when you are not quiet,” she scolded; old habits die hard. She almost sighed in exasperation. Of all the things Brienne had taught him, he could never walk without tripping, stumbling or making his presence known in the woods. If there was ever a man built for life in a castle, it was him.  
Tormund clapped Podrick on the shoulder and lifted him up from the ground.  
“You’re the one with the pretty voice.” Tormund stated proudly as he finally remembered seeing Pod and listening to him sing before the battle against the dead. To be fair, all his attention had been on Brienne that night, not the men who were sitting in the circle with her.  
“You...You’re naked m’lady.” Pod stated, ignoring Tormund’s realization. He was too focused on trying to look anywhere but at Brienne or the overly large Wildling who had been straddling him naked earlier.  
Brienne turned a fiery red as embarrassment flushed her cheeks and neck. Gods, could she never catch a break? She ran and gathered her furs, throwing them on so that she could protect what little was left of her modesty. 

No sooner had Brienne covered herself, then Sandor burst through the brush. He snarled as he did, making Pod shiver in Tormund’s grip. He’d seen the Hound before, but it was always from a distance. He looked angry and stark raving mad and for the life of him, words could not be formed in his defense.  
Sandor continued to growl and stalked closer to the intruder, sword at the ready and a deadly gleam in his eye.

“Oh, will you stop!” Brienne called out. “Clearly we have this under control. Sandor, this is Podrick Payne, my former squire.”  
“I remember you, you little shit. You were on the mountain when the bitch put me down.”  
Podrick stifled a gasp. Lady Brienne let him speak of her that way? In fact, when he looked over at her, she was rolling her eyes and stifling a smile. He’d never seen her smile. In all the time that he had been with her, Briennne’s face had been in a permanent scowl. Constantly, she would berate him on his demeanor and that he should be always focused and at the ready. She was different now. Very different from the woman he had trained under. He found he quite liked the change.  
Tormund was full on chuckling now at the awkward encounter and whispered into Podrick’s ear.  
“You didn’t shit yourself did you?”  
Pod shook his head vehemently. No one needed to know he was very close though.  
“Good,” replied Tormund.  
Pod grabbed his horse from where he had tied him up before he had dismounted and unwittingly alerted Tormund to his presence.

Tormund threw his furs on, though he would have been just as comfortable without them. The Free Folk didn’t care as much about modesty as the Southern Kneelers seemed to. They all walked back to the camp, to a soundly sleeping Sansa. Shuffling themselves around the fire, they all sat to warm themselves. 

“Pod,” Brienne started to say, when Sandor cut in.   
“What the fuck’s a pod?” he said.  
Brenne sighed, ignoring Sandor’s idiotic question and looked at Podrick.   
“What are you doing here?” Brienne asked.   
“Well, you see m’lady. I don’t belong at King’s Landing. I know you’re married, but that doesn’t mean you’re not still a knight and I’d like to keep learning from you. You’re still the best fighter I know…”  
“Oh for fuck sakes,” Sandor whisper yelled at the group, so as to not wake his sleeping little bird. “She’s not the best, you twat.”  
“She beat you though,” Pod said quietly. Unfortunately, they were all sitting so close, everyone heard it.   
Sandor glared at Pod and Tormund chuckled again and clapped Pod on the back. The boy had fighting spirit!  
“She is the best!” Tormund stated, smiling at Brienne. “But she has other things to do than train you.” His smile turned wicked and he raised his brow at Brienne. The simple look painted her face in a crimson blush. Pod, felt himself growing red, remembering that he had interrupted the two of them earlier. Sandor groaned. He didn’t need or want to think about the two of them. Fucking ginger cunt needed to keep his cock to himself.  
“Dog,” Tormund said as an idea came to mind. “You can train him. He can help you protect the fire kissed Queen.”   
“I don’t need help, ginger cunt.” Sandor grumbled.   
“I would prefer to learn from Lady Brienne.” Pod said, but it fell on deaf ears.   
Brienne simply looked at Tormund who was trying to hide his laughter at the anger that was bubbling within Sandor.  
“Fucking twats.” Sandor mumbled under his breath.  
The conversation slowly died out as the sun started to rise. The party knew it would soon be time that they would have to begin moving. The night had been wasted with no one getting any sleep, but Lady Sansa.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parting ways

Sansa awoke and walked out to be greeted by a new face. She remembered him as Brienne’s squire, but his name escaped her.   
“Good morning, m’lady,” Pod said, cheerily.   
“My Lady, this is Podrick, you remember he was my squire.” Brienne said.   
“Yes, good morning Podrick.” Sansa looked and wondered at how he had come to find them.   
“Ya, great fucking morning,” Sandor chimed in slightly under his breath.   
Sansa fought a smirk on her lips. She would have to remember her sworn sword was grumpy, especially in the mornings.   
“You know,” Brienne scolded Sandor, “you really should watch your tongue around the Queen of the North. In fact, we should all be calling her Your Grace.” Brienne bent her head towards Sansa.   
“I think, at least for now, we are beyond titles, are we not Brienne?” Sansa smiled at her friend.   
Brienne nodded and smiled as a blush crept across her face. She knew if she spoke she would undoubtedly call her My Lady. It was so ingrained in her, but she didn’t want to offend Sansa. 

They quietly cleaned up the camp and mounted the horses to continue their journey. It was a long, tedious ride back to Winterfell, but it was uneventful. 

…

Just seeing the keep from a distance, Sansa’s shoulders straightened. She took pride in her home. She was eager to be back there and begin her reign as Queen of the North. Sandor regarded his little bird. She had spoken with Brienne for most of the ride back and mostly ignored the men. Although he had caught her eyes lingering on him and Pod training more than a few times. He had begun training Pod as Tormund had suggested. Not that he thought he needed the help. However, he begrudgingly admitted, Brienne had taught the fucking boy well. He was quick and agile with his sword and would be a good asset when he needed a night’s rest. Two was always better than one.

Riding back through the gates, Tormund shivered. The last time he had been here had been the battle against the army of the dead. Nothing would ever let him forget that battle against the dead. Being here only made it worse. He leaned over to Brienne, who remained mounted beside him.   
“We’re not staying long.” He said.   
Brienne felt the same about Winterfell, although it housed other memories for her as well. Memories of Jaime; memories of heartbreak. Although they made her sad, these events led her to where she was now and she wouldn’t change a thing.   
“Your Grace,” Brienne called out to Sansa who had already dismounted with the help of Sandor. Pod was in the process of dismounting, but his head shot up when Brienne spoke. “Thank you for allowing us to accompany you on your journey home. Please take no offense when I say, we would like to continue on our journey.”  
“Brienne, Tormund,” Sansa sounded resigned. “Of course, you should be with your people. I’m sure they are waiting for their leader.” Sansa looked at Tormund who puffed out his chest a bit. Men, Brienne scoffed. 

“M’Lady,” Pod called out as he rounded his horse to see Brienne. “It was an honour to serve with you.” He bowed slightly towards her.  
Brienne dismounted from her horse quickly.   
“Pod, kneel before me. He stumbled and all but ran to be in front of Brienne.   
“Podrick Payne,” Brienne said, unsheathing her sword and bringing it to his right shoulder. The words flowed effortlessly from her as she would never ever forget the day that Jaime knighted her. “In the name of the warrior, I charge you to be brave.” Raising her sword and bringing it down on his left shoulder, she said, “in the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.” Raising her sword once again and bringing it down on his right shoulder again, she said, “in the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.” Her sword drifted off of his shoulders and she smiled at him. “Arise Podrick Payne, a knight of the six kingdoms and the free North.”   
Pod looked up at Brienne and his eyes swam with tears. He would never know how to thank her for the kindness she had bestowed upon him. 

Brienne mounted her horse again and looked at her former squire.  
“Pod, you’re a fine warrior and now you’re a knight. Keep Lady Sansa safe.” Brienne said. If she said anything more sentimental she might have cried and there was no way she was going to show that weakness in front of Sandor Clegane. She’d have to kill him, because he would never shut up about Brienne of Tarth crying over her former squire.   
Sandor stepped forward then.   
“Brienne of Fucking Tarth. Can’t believe you’re with the Ginger cunt. You’re fucking mad.”  
“Ginger cunt,” he smiled at Tormund. “Don’t piss her off or she’ll gut you like a fucking pig.” Tormund laughed. The dog was good humoured. Tormund knew it was his way of saying goodbye and goodluck. 

With the goodbyes out of the way, Tormund and Brienne headed out of the gates and to the True North.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne gets a new name

The horses only slowed them down once they reached Castle Black. The Free Folk that decided to make the old Night’s Watch their home, gladly housed the horses for Brienne and Tormund. From here on out, it would be on foot. Walking in her furs, Brienne was so happy that she did not have her armour on. 

They traveled and Tormund explained to Brienne how he could track the Free Folk, even though the snow and wind wiped away the traces that anyone had passed through the area. He tested her, disappearing in the night and waiting for her to find him.  
When she did find him, it was sooner than he thought. She was a quick study, his spearwife. He smiled at the knowledge that she was his. He looked up to see the sky darkening with a storm, but it looked far enough in the distance that they would not be bothered by it.  
“Gods it’s so cold,” Brienne shivered. “How are you not bothered by the cold?” Brienne asked.  
Tormund laughed.  
“You want to know how I keep warm? Want to hear what I told the crow and the dog?”  
Brienne looked at Tormund. There was a mischievous look in his eyes. Her curiosity won out though and she nodded. Tormund chuckled before he spoke.  
“Walking’s good. Fighting’s better. Fucking’s best.”  
Brienne blushed furiously.  
“Tormund!” She exclaimed. “You’d get frostbite if you exposed yourself.” He chuckled again.  
“The only part of me out of my furs would be buried in you.” he said and started to approach Brienne as though he was stalking prey.  
“Don’t you dare!” Brienne scolded as she backed away from Tormund.  
Before he could make a move, Brienne made a run for it. She could hear Tormund hot on her heels as she weaved and dodged through the trees. Her long legs propelled her forward as she distanced herself from Tormund. Before long, she noticed that she couldn’t see or hear Tormund at all. She smiled to herself at her ability to outrun him. 

She also noticed, though, the eerie quiet of the forest. It was as though all the animals had made a silent retreat. 

Brienne turned around to retrace her steps back to Tormund when the snapping of a twig caught her attention. It was at her back, there was no way it was Tormund. Not at the pace he ran at and somewhere in her bones, she knew it wasn’t him. There was another sound and she recognized it to her right. She was being ambushed. Brienne drew her blade. She was happy it sat against her furs as she was able to draw it soundlessly. Brienne barely heard the footsteps at her back and she turned raising her sword. Lightning broke across the sky and bathed Brienne in light with her sword raised she looked like an enraged warrior. Oathkeeper hit its mark as an angered sound called out before Brienne was tackled to the ground. The harsh landing left her short of breath, but this is what she had trained for. It was too close quarters for her sword, so Brienne lashed out with her fists. The man that lay heavily on her had a mask made of a skull. At her first punch, she cut her fist on the bone mask. Her second punch came as thunder rumbled loud and shook the ground. Her punch crushed the mask and it shattered against the man’s face. Her blood mixed with the man’s as his face was cut by the bone mask shattering. He called out angrily again, rolling from her body. Blood from his face and where Brienne’s blade had stabbed through his side, coloured the white snow. Brienne had barely a moment's notice before the second attacker was on her. He threw his weight on her and pinned her hands. 

Brienne struggled and kneed him directly between the legs just as another flash of lightning lip up the sky. He called out as the air rushed from his lungs. Brienne was able to free her right arm and struck him in the face as yet again thunder rumbled in the sky. She felt his nose break as blood gushed down his face. The man fell over in pain and rolled away from her. Brienne stood up and stomped on the man’s leg, hearing it snap under her foot. His groans turned into a scream. She looked at the first attacker, he seemed unconscious from blood loss due to her blade. Brienne needed to find Tormund. 

With her sword in hand, she raced into the woods back into the direction she came. Within minutes, she came across Tormund. He had his sword drawn and his face and fists were bloodied.  
“Tormund!” Brienne called as she saw him before he saw her.  
“Woman!” Tormund responded. “I was attacked. You...were you?” Brienne simply nodded and Tormund started looking over her body for marks. His hands felt her furs and he constantly pulled them back to look for blood. He noticed her hand and gingerly pulled out some shards of bone from her knuckles.  
“Two of them are down in the snow. One might be dead, the other has a broken leg.”  
“Good,” he said and stalked angrily in the direction Brienne had come from.  
Brienne walked behind Tormund. She had never seen him this enraged before. It was a quiet anger, that to be honest frightened her. It made her think of all the things that had been said about the Free Folk and she understood why people would be frightened of them.  
Another flash of lightning lit up the sky and allowed Tormund to see the two men in the snow. A trail of blood made it easy to track the one man Brienne had left alive, as he tried to crawl to safety. Thunder rumbled quietly in the distance. The storm was abating and would not bother them further.

Tormund grabbed him by the furs and flipped him over on his back.  
“Want to tell me why you attacked my woman?” Tormund asked as he cocked his fist back.  
“Didn’t know she was yours,” he spat at Tormund. “But now that I know she’s a witch I wouldn’t want her anyways.” Tormund punched him quickly and Brienne winced at the sound of bone shattering.  
“You didn’t come back. We thought you were dead.”  
Tormund threw the man back on the ground and turned to Brienne.  
“We must go and find everyone.”  
Brienne nodded and she and Tormund walked in silence towards where they hoped the Free Folk would be camped. 

“What did he mean when he said you were a witch?” Tormund asked Brienne as they settled for the night.  
“It was odd,” Brienne said. “When I fought back, whenever I landed a good punch, the sound of thunder rolled from the sky.”  
Tormund chuckled.  
“I was called Thunderfist once, did you know that? The Old Gods are proving that you and I belong together!” He said excitedly. “And now you have a name. Brienne Thunderfist mate of Tormund Giantsbane.”  
“I don’t want to be called Thunderfist!” Brienne exclaimed.  
“Beauty, it’s now a story you will tell. Fighting off a handful of men, every punch you landed, thunder sounded from the sky as though the old Gods were clapping at the sight of you in battle. It is something to be proud of.”  
“There were only two.” Brienne said as she sighed.  
“They may have been waiting for you but thought better of it, thinking you were blessed by the gods.” Tormund was proud of his spearwife. Many would have not been able to fight off a man, let alone two. He wouldn’t tell her of all the men he actually did see waiting amongst the trees when the lightning lit up the sky. He counted at least six. He prayed a thank you to the Old Gods that for whatever reason they had not attacked her and continued to stay back when he was with her. However, he knew he would meet them in battle again at some point.  
“Yes, well alright then.” Brienne sighed again, she wondered how many stories she had heard that had been a stretch of the truth.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding the North

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to cap it off with a little smut and a little fluff.

Within four days, they found the Free Folk. The camp seemed perfectly normal and Brienne could hear children laughing as they played. Tormund walked ahead of Brienne, showing her the way into the tents.

As he passed by, Free Folk stood and murmured at his return. Some openly walked up to him and clapped him on the back, glancing warily at Brienne. Others, looked at Brienne with slight recognition. Brienne realised some of them had been the Free Folk that had accompanied her to King’s Landing.   
When they reached the centre, it seemed as though all the Free Folk were present and watching what would happen. One of the elders came up to Tormund and smiled at him. 

“This is her?” the Elder said.   
“Yes. Brienne Thunderfist.” Tormund claimed. “You should have seen her. The storm that was just by here, every time the thunder clapped through the sky, she was striking an opponent down. One of them called her a witch!” He laughed. The rest of the Free Folk joined in on the laugh. Most probably thought it was a story similar to the tall tales Tormund was known to tell, but it was entertaining.   
“She is my spearwife. So if any of you try anything, I’ll rip your fucking guts out through your throats!” Tormund said and the laughter died. He was serious and Brienne felt a wave of anger roll of him. “I let her deal with the ones in the forest, but I’ll deal with anyone in here.” Brienne swore she could hear the people breathing, it was so quiet. 

A tall man stepped out from the crowd of Free Folk. He was a sight, thought Brienne. He had raven black hair and a large scar cut down his face.   
“Yes, but those fuckers are stupid,” he said. “When word came that almost everyone was dead, including you, a lot of the Folk from Hardhome left. They didn’t want to be here if you weren’t. Damn shame to be rid of the scared shits,” he chuckled. In truth, it was a good way to sort out the weak and timid from the strong. They would be a stronger group for it. 

Tormund also chuckled and smiled at the man.   
“They should know by now that fire can’t hurt me. I was kissed by it!” The Free Folk cried out in support for their leader. Many of them nodded their heads at Brienne, understanding her place was now by his side. 

“Now, where is mine?” Tormund said, waving his hand at the tents surrounding them. The elder simply stepped aside and bowed his head towards the one directly behind him. Brienne realized it was in the centre. Tormund grabbed her hand and dragged her into the tent. It was surprisingly warm and welcoming. It seemed to be made of hides and furs. The ground was covered with soft furs. Brienne took off her boots so she could feel the softness below her feet. It seemed more like a small home than a collapsible shelter. There was a small table for them to eat at and dried meats hanging down on the far side. If she was hungry, she suspected, she could simply carve a piece off and eat it. It smelled divine. There was also a large bed to the side and Brienne stared at it, suddenly blushing at the thoughts that came to her mind. Suddenly nothing else mattered. 

“Woman,” Tormund said and approached Brienne and held her from behind. His hands travelled around her and held her back to his chest.  
Brienne sighed into Tormund. It felt right to be in his arms; to be here with the Free Folk. She’d never felt like she belonged before, but now she had people, she had a home and she had Tormund.

Tormund grasped Brienne’s hand and lead her to the bed. She sat on the edge and faced Tormund. His hands groped along the furs and undid all the fastenings that held them together. She shrugged off her furs then laid back and raised her hips so Tormund could work the fur breeches from her body. He hungrily stared at her bare body. A spearwife such as this should be worshipped, he thought. The Old Gods truly smiled down on him. He suspected it was time he finally found happiness, though.   
Brienne found she was no longer uncomfortable with her body and her nakedness with Tormund. She didn’t even mind that she had a large scar across her body. It was like Tormund said, it was a story to be told. A time when two devastating wars decided the fate of the six kingdoms and the free North; back when they were simply known as the seven Kingdoms. 

“Where is your head, woman?” Tormund asked. Brienne’s eyes snapped back to the present.   
“I was thinking,” she replied.   
“Enough of that.” Tormund said and smiled as he dropped his lips to meet hers. His beard scratched at her face as his tongue delved inside her mouth. Brienne gasped at the intrusion. Tormund almost laughed. He kept forgetting the innocence of his big woman. His hands travelled her body, dancing across scars and palming her breasts. Brienne let out a hushed moan as the pleasure raced through her body. He followed his hands with kisses, rubbing his furs deliciously along her body. The contrast of his rough hands, soft furs and wet tongue were enough to drive her mad. Finally, he brought his mouth to her most sensitive part. Again he was tasting her, seeing how slick, how wet he could make her. The pleasure drove her mad as her body started to spasm with her release. Brienne realised she could die of happiness with him between her legs. But she wanted more. She always wanted more. 

“Please,” Brienne begged. She needed her husband. Needed the connection of the two of them.   
He quickly ripped the furs from his body and threw them on the ground. He brought his body back up her length and thrust into her gently. Brienne moaned at the feeling of her body stretching for him.   
“Say my name. Tell them. Tell them who does this for you. Tell them you’re mine.” Tormund said as he thrust harder into Brienne, bringing his hand between the two of them and brushing it against her sensitive flesh.   
“Tormund!” Brienne scolded him.   
“No, not that way beauty.” Tormund said and applied more pressure with his fingers to her already sensitive area and continued the brutal rhythm he had set.   
Suddenly, Brienne felt her body tighten in response to the overwhelming pleasure. The delicious sensation took over her body and a cry of pure joy escaped her lips before she called out Tormund’s name.   
“Yes, like that!” He said and called out her name as he found his release. 

They lay together, on top of the furs of their bed. Tormund slowly took himself out of Brienne and she winced at the loss of him.   
“Beauty,” Tormund said, cupping Brienne’s face. “You were made for me and the North.”   
Brienne simply nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak at the moment as she was still catching her breath. She should have been ashamed that the Free Folk probably heard her cry out as she found her passionate release. But, this was the Free North and she was done feeling ashamed of who she was and how Tormund made her feel. 

Before long, Tormund pressed himself against Brienne’s side and she felt his manhood hard against her hip. He lifted her leg so that he could slide into her again. Brienne sighed at the feeling of him inside her again. She would never get tired of it.   
There was no rush in their love making. They had forever. 

Forever together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading! :)


End file.
